Blazing Liberation
by charmedlion22
Summary: After sacking Yunkai and aiding in the freeing of the city's slaves, Daenerys and Jaenarys continue on to Meereen; one hoping to rule, the other hoping to help liberate. And with the arrival of the stranger Aegor's spirit showed her, way back in the Tower of the Undying, Jae's world begins to change. Find out what happens next in the fourth installment of Fireborn.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write! **

**I'm shaking things up; it's not going to be Jae's POV in the beginning of the chapter. She will have a large chunk of it, so don't worry - it's still mostly about Jae. There will also be the start of a "How to Train Your Dragon" plot with Jae and Davvi.**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Bold is Dothraki, italics is Valyrian.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_King's Landing (Robb's POV)…_

There's nothing down here to keep my sane. All I can see is my wife dying, my mother being murdered. I've been confined to the cells below the Red Keep since my arrival in King's Landing a fortnight ago. Days feel like years down here. There's no sun, no moon to tell me what time it is. Sweat clings to my body, and I feel my strength leaving every second. My chest and stomach ache from the arrows that were pulled out. My only company is a maester who tends to my wounds methodically and the guards who bring me food and water. Stale food, but food nonetheless. But my skin has become sunken and pale. Covered in dirt. The cell smells as badly as you could imagine. My bath is water tossed onto my still-dressed body, my clothes moldy.

The only thought that gives me hope is that I am not alone. My sister is here, somewhere in the castle. And were I to escape, I could get her, and we could leave together. Escape into the night, go North and never return. I lost everything to my mistake, and I don't think I can ever come back from that. The guards are not quiet. They often gloat about how the Boltons now have the North, the Karstarks and the Umbers backing them willingly, without hesitation. How could I have been so foolish? My mother is dead, a woman who deserved the best is dead, all because I couldn't keep a damn promise.

With a shout closer to a wounded howl I throw my empty plate across the room, watching it shatter against the brick wall. Right on time, the guards open the door and burst through, an amused look on their faces. "Look at this. The Young Wolf still has a temper."

"Don't matter. King'll have his head soon enough." The other one smirks, then slams his hand against my face, knocking me down. "He can keep it next to your mum's and that damn dog of yours."

"Grey Wind wasn't a dog." I mutter, voice shaky. "He was a direwolf."

"Dog, direwolf. Either way, he's dead. Just like you will be. Keep the noise down. We can't hear ourselves think." With that they are sweeping out of the cell, leaving me on the floor.

Breathing in, I sit up with great effort, body supported by my knees. I bow my head and clasp my hands.

I am not a praying man. I have not been for many moons. But I sit here now, on my knees, pleading to the Old Gods, and the New. Please look out for Sansa. Keep her safe from Joffrey. And help give me hope. Please, give me hope. If I shall die… let me die with dignity.

* * *

_Across the Narrow Sea (Jae's POV)..._

I lay on a hill above my sister, looking skyward as Davvi flies over me, having just returned from her hunt. It's been a week since Yunkai's slaves were freed, but we did not stay. I wish we had, at least to make sure they remained free. But my sister insisted we continue, her advisors eager to agree. So all I could do was follow her order, a sinking feeling in my gut that we hadn't done enough.

Shrieking gets my attention, and I sit up to see Rhaegal and Viserion flying towards my sister and Drogon, fighting over a bloodied animal. I watch as my sister jumps when the bloodied carcass drops in front of her and stand, running towards her.

I arrive at the boulder just as Drogon is fighting for a piece of animal with his brothers. "Shh. Shh." Dany tries to soothe her obvious favorite, but he only snaps his head back and roars at her, causing my sister to lean back and yelp. Pleased, he roars once more and flies up into the sky with his brothers.

"Dany, are you alright."

She looks up at me and steels her face. "I am fine, _hāedar_." Little sister, in Valyrian.

I smile "You haven't called me that in awhile, Daenerys."

"I know." She warily looks to the sky, then her eyes fall upon Davvi, flying on her own, large wings spread as she twirls. "Davvi is doing well."

"Yes." I smile up at the dragon, laughing as she flies down and lands next to me, nuzzling into my leg. _"Are you tired?"_ She just purrs, and I stroke the top of her head. _"You flew longer today. But your left wing seems stronger than the other."_ She purrs again.

My sister clears her throat and I turn to her, hand still on the back of Davvi's head. "You've been training Davvi?"

"Yes." I nod. "Since we left Yunkai. She seemed ready for it."

"A dragon is not a pet, hāedar." My sister reminds me, a gentle look on her face and voice hard.

"No, it is not." I agree. "But she does not have to figure out who she is on her own."

My sister looks into my eyes, searching for something. "Why do I feel as though you are not just speaking about Davvi?"

"Because I'm not."

Our moment is broken when Jorah walks up the boulder. "They're dragons, Khaleesi, Princess. They can never be tamed. Not even by their mothers."

"No." I nod, then kiss Davvi's rough cheek. "But then again, a little wildness is never a bad thing."

"Princess." He bows out of respect, and I roll my eyes and laugh.

"One of these days, Jorah, you will learn to stop bowing to me."

"Are they ready, Ser Jorah?" My sister asks, interrupting us though there is an amused look on her face.

"Yes, Khaleesi." We rise and I watch Davvi join the other three dragons, flying around and screeching at them when they attempt to come at her. I watch in pride as she holds her ground… sky… and the dragons back off, fighting amongst themselves.

Realizing Jorah and Dany are a ways away from me I rush after them, arakh and Blackfyre swinging at my hips.

The Unsullied are lined up in perfect formation as always, our khalasar with them. Ser Barristan and Missandei stand at the front waiting for us to arrive, and I bypass my old swords teacher to hug my friend. After over a month of her getting used to it, I smile when she finally fully wraps her arms around mine.

"Hello, my friend. How is Davvi?"

"She is good, Deia. Keeping the others in line."

"Just like you." I smile and wrap my arm through hers, waiting for my sister.

"Ser Barristan." My sister greets.

He bows his head. "Your Grace."

She looks around, then stares back up at him. "Where's Daario Naharis?" At her words I peer around for my new friend, then notice my battle partner is missing.

"Deia, where is Grey Worm?"

"Gambling, Your Graces." He answers, as though that will settle the matter.

"Gambling?" Dany asks, and Ser Barristan gestures towards the parted middle of the Unsullied formation.

My sister sighs and holds out her hand for me to take. We walk together, but I look back and nudge my head. Missandei follows us, rushing over to take my hand as we keep moving.

I seem to always forget how many follow my sister, because after walking a mile past our Unsullied we come upon the former slaves of Yunkai who did choose to follow us. Most stayed, but nearly 100 freed souls came with us. They all shout "Mhysa" and "_Mīsio_". They bow to us, and I bow my head in response, smiling down at a little girl playing with a crown of wildflowers.

Finally we reach the ends of my sister's following. Grey Worm and Daario sit across from each other, legs crossed and arms out. The former has a dagger in his hands, the latter his arakh.

"How long have they been at this?" Dany asks.

"Since midnight, Your Grace." Missandei answers.

I huff. "If I knew they were holding a competition, I would have joined."

Missandei smiles at me, shoulders relaxed. "Perhaps it is good that you did not know?"

"Are you suggesting I'd lose?" I ask, and Missandei grins even wider.

"Of course not, my friend."

We walk over to the two men, who finally notice we've arrived. "Ser Worm is stronger than he looks. But I can see his arms beginning to shake." Daario comments.

"What's the prize to winning this stupid contest?" My sister asks, though I can tell she's at least a little amused.

"The honor of riding by your side on the road to Meereen." He looks up at my sister, and I jokingly huff.

"We fought in a battle together. Why am I not a prize to be won?" I ask haughtily, and Daario bows his head, though speaks in a joking tone.

"A thousand apologies, Princess Jaenarys."

I snort.

"The honor goes to Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan, as neither of them kept me waiting this morning." Dany tells the two men. "You two will ride in the rear guard and protect the livestock."

"And that is why you should've competed for me." I offer, my sister laughing at the look on my face.

"You, allowing men to compete for you? Who are you and what have you done to my sister." I laugh with her then look down at the two men.

I clear my throat. "The last man holding up his weapon will be left behind, and can find a new Queen to fight for." I offer, making to turn and walk away. My sister and Missandei walk ahead, but I stay rooted in my spot.

_"You like this girl?"_ I hear Daario ask in Valyrian._ "Must be frustrating."_

_"You are not a smart man, Daario Naharis."_ Grey Worm responds.

"I'd rather have no brains and two balls." I turn and glare up at him, eyes narrowed.

"I'm very tempted to tie you to a sheep and watch it drag you after us." I tell him in the common tongue. Daario winks and walks after my sister, and I turn to look at a disgruntled Grey Worm. He rolls his shoulders back and nods at me, then we walk back through the crowd together.

* * *

I sit on the ledge overlooking the large body of water beneath us. Behind me, the Unsullied and the rest of our people continuing to march. Missandei and Dany stand next to me, observing the same scenery. "Have you ever been to Meereen?" I hear my sister ask, and I look up at my friend as we wait for her to answer.

"Several times, Your Grace. With Master Kraznys." I spit when I hear his name. "It is alright, my friend. He cannot hurt me anymore."

"And?" Dany asks, continuing her line of questioning.

"They say 1,000 slaves building the Great Pyramid of Meereen."

I smirk, and throw a stone into the water below. "And now a freed army marches to her gates."

"Do you think the Great Masters are worried?" Dany asks.

I throw another rock, then laugh when Davvi swoops in out of nowhere, treating the rock like a toy. "Men are always afraid when they realize they're about to lose to a woman. Women."

Footsteps approach us, and I look over my shoulder to see a contrite Daario walking towards my sister, whose arms are crossed. "You were told to ride at the back of the train."

"Yes, my Queen. But I need to speak to you about something important. A matter of strategy."

"Then you can say it in front of Jaenarys. She's your general, after all." Realizing Dany is being willfully oblivious, I stand and dust off my loose tan dress with red swirls embroidered.

"Actually, Deia and I have to go." My sister raises an eyebrow. "Yeah. Bye."

_"Jaenarys, get back here!"_ She whispers harshly, but I snort and take Missandei's hand. My best friend smiles.

"Your Grace." She bows respectfully then joins me in our exit, the two of us laughing hysterically when we are out of earshot. "Does your sister know he likes her?"

"Oh, without question. But men always love her." I add, without any contempt in my voice.

"I'm sure the same can be said for you. You're truly a rare beauty."

I shake my head, and smile sadly. "Thank you, Deia. As are you. But men do not love me, not like they love you and Dany."

"Men don't love me."

I think about Grey Worm, and the way he looks at her. "You would be surprised. It is fine, Deia. I'm sure I will meet the one when the time is right."

"Halt!" A man screams in Valyrian, and Missandei and I turn in the direction of the front of our train. Dany hurries to join us, hand clutching three flowers. Together we rush through the parted army, and I cover my mouth in horror when I see the reason for our stopping. Tears fill my eyes, and I touch my stomach, as if what it's in front of me was my own.

A girl barely six, stiff as a mountain and paler than Dany's white mare has been tied and nailed to a post, arms positioned so they point towards Meereen. I stumble, then find myself supported by Caraxes, my stubborn and aging black stallion.

"There's one on every mile marker between here and Meereen." I hear Jorah announce, then push past everyone - including my sister - to stand in front of the little girl.

"How many miles are there between here and Meereen?" Dany asks.

"163, Your Grace." Jorah answers.

"I'll tell our men to ride ahead and bury them. You two don't need to see this." Ser Barristan gently offers.

Before anyone can respond I whip out a small dagger I keep strapped to my calf and slice the ropes holding the girl up then pull out the nails on her feet and hands, catching the frail body in my arms. "I will bury them myself."

"And I shall join you. We will look upon each and everyone of their faces. Remove her collar, though. Please?" Dany requests.

I smile sadly and fix the girl so I'm carrying her like a man carries his bride. "You didn't need to even ask, Dany. They deserve to be free in death." She nods. With that, I'm walking up a hill above the front of our army. My sister follows me, but the rest stay behind.

I set the girl down gently and cut her collar, then hand it to Dany. She squeezes my shoulder and kneels next to me, and together we dig into the sand, dirt, and grass with our bare hands, uncaring of being dirtied. Wiping my brow I stand and pick the girl back up, carefully placing her in her grave. My sister and I cover her body, and she places the three flowers above the new mound. "I'm sorry you got so dirty, Dany." I whisper, feeling the tears sliding down my cheeks.

She sighs and takes my hand. "What's a body covered in grime, compared with giving an innocent soul dignity? Besides, I wouldn't want you to have to do this alone."

I nod at her words and we rest our heads against one another. "Thank you, Dany. But I have 163 more graves to dig."

"Then so do I, Nary." She kisses my temple to seal her promise, and together we rejoin the others, no less unprepared for the horrors we are about to bear witness to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write!**

**This chapter, however, will mainly be from Robb's POV. It'll include a talk with an old friend-turned enemy-turned brother and his escape from King's Landing. The end will include some Jae, but just as an introduction to their arrival in Meereen. I hope you enjoy!**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Bold is Dothraki, italics is Valyrian.**

* * *

_King's Landing (Robb's POV)..._

I stay curled in my spot on the floor, a relatively clean corner made dirty by my presence. My wounds have stopped throbbing, and I'm alive enough to check and make sure they remain uninfected. As do the maesters. It's not done out of kindness, though. They're letting my suffering draw out enough that I'm less than a man, but arrow holes can't kill what the bastard King claims is his to take.

I've become numb to the loss of my wife, of my unborn child. Is that normal? I know I miss them, and that I love them. But nothing fucks you harder than isolation, and I've been royally fucked as it is.

Through the grates of my cell door, I can hear other prisoners grumbling amongst themselves. I do not speak to them, only listen. I don't know why they're down here, only that if it is for fighting against the Lannisters I'm greatly appreciative.

And, amongst themselves, I hear words that oddly bring some comfort. Talk of Dragons across the Narrow Sea is muttered from cell to cell. Rumor or not, I'm glad to know something is coming for the Lannisters. Something they greatly deserve.

"There's two of them, you know." I had heard a whispery old voice say days before. "Have you heard? One with three dragons, the other with one. They say her eyes are violet embers. The Princess Across the Sea."

"Aye." Another had agreed. "Her sister is a great beauty, too. The Mother of Dragons. I'd like to fuck her, that's my final request."

"No, the violet-eyed one. Heard she's demure. Easy to control." Said another voice.

"I heard she's a fighter. I like 'em rough." And that is where I had tuned out the conversation, stomach in knots at the way men can speak of women they don't know. A dragon is still a dragon, no matter how gentle they are.

The sound of my cell door opening has me shakily sitting up. The maesters already came before, but it could have been hours ago, I don't know.

It's the arrival of the Imp that has me most confused, especially considering his fancy garment, a cloth covered plate, and a thick satchel. He orders the guards to shut the door.

"You can tell my father all you'd like. That boy is going to die. There's nothing I can do to stop it." He tells them, an air of finality in his voice. They shut the door and he walks to me, carefully looking around the room. "Well, this is most disgusting."

"Aye. Least you don't have to live in it, Lannister." I grit, shuffling back against the wall. My arms - thin now from a lack of proper food - wrap around my folded up legs. I'm skinny enough that a slight breeze can knock me sideways, I suppose. Like Arya, when I last saw her. Tiny. But she's strong. She was strong. I don't even know if she's alive. Gods, I hope she's alive.

"I am sorry, for what has happened."

I let out a disbelieving snort, then my thin hand strokes my long, scraggly beard. "Do you mean the deaths of my mother, wife, and unborn child? Or for ordering the assassination of my brother."

The Lannister dwarf narrows his eyes. "I did no such thing. Truly."

"Forgive me if I don't immediately believe you, Lord Tyrion." I respond viciously. Despite my tone, Lord Tyrion begins to grin.

"They haven't tamed the Young Wolf yet, I suppose. That's good. Sansa will be happy to hear."

"How is your wife?" I bitterly ask, shivering. Lord Tyrion sets down the plate and bag, opening it to first hand me a closed leather flask and a thick blanket which he helps wrap around me. "What are you doing?"

"My best to keep you alive in a dignified manner. For your sister's sake. She is not doing well. Not that I blame her. I shall not have her wasting away."

"You love her? She's a child." I growl, but then open the pouch and drink some ale. It warms me. The cells are constantly damp, and though I'm of the North I'm not what I once was. All I am is skin and bones.

"I know she is. And I have not bedded her." I look at him in surprise. "I didn't want to marry her. I love another. But I made my own vow to protect her, and I shall. She's suffered enough."

"Aye. And on her own, surrounded by monsters."

"Yes. So, you can imagine my anger towards my bastard of a nephew. He will not have your head as a gift." he removes the cloth from the plate and slides it to me, and I take a bite of sausage. It's the best thing I've ever eaten. "Take your time. A man who looks as you do should not rush through a meal." I nod in thanks, ripping into the meat in a way that would have my mother tugging my ear. My mother, who is dead, because of the Lannisters.

"Why should I believe you? That you had nothing to do with Bran or the Freys?" I ask, but I'm too tired to be angry.

Lord Tyrion bites the inside of his cheek, but his eyes meet mine. "I would never hurt a child, King Robb."

"I'm no king, my Lord." I remind him.

"You're a better king than my nephew." He carefully hands me a piece of soft bread. "I didn't hurt your brother. I had no reason to. But you know who did."

"Your siblings? So it's true, then." Lord Tyrion only nods, disgust written on his face. "They hurt Bran."

"I do not doubt it. For that, I am sorry. And as for the Freys… that was my father. I only found out after it had happened."

"And now I sit here, waiting to die."

Tyrion looks at me, then sighs. "Yes. I'm afraid there's not much else I can do. My father keeps too close an eye on me. My own undoing, really."

"So this it, then?"

Lord Tyrion stands, and pats my shoulder. "I will tell Sansa that you are eating, and drinking. We have a breakfast to attend, I'm afraid. My nephew is marrying a Tyrell, the poor girl. Though perhaps she can convince him to let you live. She and Sansa are friends. Or as near friends two can be in King's Landing. In the satchel, there is something to freshen your breath, clean your teeth. I couldn't bring soap without a pail of water, I'm afraid, but at least one part of you will be clean." He walks to the cell door and knocks on it, waiting for it to open. As the guards let him out, he turns to me once more. "Never forget, King Robb; you remain loved." With that the door is closed and the footsteps get further away. I'm left in silence, no less hopeful for my survival. But perhaps death would be a sweet release? I wonder if I would see them again, those I had lost.

And if I were too, I hope one more thing. That the Targaryens come back, and bring justice to the people of Westeros.

* * *

The cells have been buzzing the entire time my eyes have been open, all about the wedding that was promised. Weddings. The Lion and the Rose, marrying in the Sept of Baelor. I passed by it, when I was brought to King's Landing. It only made me miss Winterfell and our Godswood more. Winterfell, now under the control of the Bolton's. I never should have trusted Roose.

But with the wedding, came something most unusual. Fewer guards. I assume most of them are with the King, protecting him. Weddings have gotten all the more deadlier, after all, and the darkest part of me hopes to see Tywin Lannister lose it all, in the bloodiest of ways. Gone is the nobility father instilled with me. All I have is rage.

With a lack of guards came louder prisoners. Not ones strong enough to pick up a sword, but brave enough to speak aloud. To curse the King, and I can't help but join in.

"I have an order from the King. He wants the Stark pup." I hear a voice order, then the cell doors open. A man my height and former size is revealed, standing between the two guards. He's dressed as a member of the Kingsguard

"Get up, you cunt." One orders, and I press my hands to the wall as I shakily rise, like a newborn horse learning to walk. The guards laugh and force me out, and the man cuffs my hands, attaching another chain to drag me like a leashed dog. I only straighten, accepting my fate. The man thanks the guards and leads me with him, but when we come across the main staircase he turns another corner, taking advantage of the lack of guards.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" I ask, not expecting a reply. Death is death, after all. The man only holds a finger to his lips, and we creep through another tunnel until we reach the opening of a small cave. I'm pushed through, first, and then the man. He moves a rock and brings out a black hooded cloak. He removes his own uniform, and reveals himself much smaller than I thought, leaner and less muscular. His face, which had been hidden by the darkness of the cells, is thin and rat-like. His eyes are blue, his hair blonde. Unfolding his leather vest, he points to a bird stitched onto his chest. A Mockingbird. "My name is Olyvar. I am here at the request of my employer, Lord Petyr Baelish. He's arranged safe passage for you to Essos. There is an old contact of his in Meereen, who has agreed to take you in and keep you safe. Or you can stay here, and die."

"I… I don't understand?"

"Hmm." He simply mutters, then uncuffs my hands. "You see that ship, right there?" He points in the direction, and I nod. "Her captain awaits you. Hopefully with a bath and new clothes." Olyvar wrinkles his nose, then pushes me into the small row boat.

"Wait, what of my sister?"

"He has arranged passage for her to the Eyrie."

"Why am I not joining them?" I ask, body shaking and aching in the sun.

"Far too suspicious. Though, his contact may help you return. His name is Hizdahr zo Loraq."

"Hizdahr zo Loraq." I repeat, keeping it in my head.

"Yes. Now go, quickly. Go!" He pushes me into the boat and I allow him to. "Your sister will be safe. Lord Baelish was a friend to your mother. Get strong, then return. That is what Lord Baelish has asked." I nod and pick up the oars, my thin arms yelling at me as I begin. I've rowed before, in Riverrun. But then I was strong. I'm not strong now.

My mind is, though, and has distracted me long enough that I realize I'm more than halfway to the ship. I grit my teeth and move my arms harder, nearly crying from the pain, until the ladder is lowered and tan men, collared, appear. Slaves. They help me up, and lead me to the tanned captain, his face and eyes grim. "Welcome, Robb Stark. I am Captain Lazar zo Loraq, brother to Hizdahr zo Loraq. My slaves will take you below, to be cleaned and fed. You can rest easy now, Stark. You are in no danger." He nods and the slaves whisk me away. All I can think is what kind of man is Lord Baelish, to have friends who are slave traders? I have to return, as soon as I'm able. Not for revenge, no. Because Sansa may be in danger, and I can't let anything else happen to her. I have a promise to keep with mother, to bring the family together. I must.

So I allow myself to be bathed. My beard to be trimmed, my hair still long but no longer oily.

But then, then it happens. The captain strides in, a smile on his face. And I am dressed just as the slaves, a collar strapped around my neck. "Lord Baelish only requested we keep you safe from the Lannister's. He never told us not to chain you, my Lord." With that he walks away, and I find myself more trapped than I was in my cell in King's Landing.

* * *

_Outside Meereen's Gates (Jae's POV)..._

It's been five days of riding. Five days of buring the nailed slaves. Five days of quick baths, because no amount of water can wash what I've had to bury away. And now I ride behind my sister and look up at the great gates of Meereen, the Harpy that looms over the city from on top of the Great Pyramid. Caraxes neighs, and I pet his head. In my heart I know Davvi is close by. And for the masters, so is my fury.

Justice will be delivered. This I swear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write!**

**This chapter directly follows Jae's POV from the previous one. To clarify for when you read, Robb was enslaved during Jae and her sister's seven day walk to Meereen, accounting for his new life. **

**IMPORTANT TRIGGER WARNING (even though you're reading a Game of Thrones fic, I still want you to be as comfortable as possible). Robb's POV WILL have TORTURE. It isn't gory, but the nature of it can bring discomfort. It's a short POV and it's at the end, in case you don't want to actually read it. Just wanted y'all to know.**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Bold is Dothraki, italics is Valyrian.**

* * *

_Previously (Jae's POV)..._

_It's been seven days of riding. Seven prolonged days of burying the nailed slave children, because we had to stop for our people. They have spent too many days unable to rest. So there have been seven days of quick baths, because no amount of water can wash what I've had to bury away. And now I ride behind my sister and look up at the great gates of Meereen, the Harpy that looms over the city from on top of the Great Pyramid. Caraxes neighs, and I pet his head. In my heart I know Davvi is close by. And for the masters, so is my fury. Justice will be delivered. This I swear. _

* * *

Dany and her white horse gracefully trot through the Unsullied. But I ride with fevor, practically galloping ahead on Caraxes. My red cloak billows behind me, my black silk dress moving with the wind thanks to the slit on my right leg. My sister joins me soon enough, and I allow her to pass. She gently pats my leg as she does, and I calm down. I have to be calm, if a fight breaks out. Rage can only get you so far in a battle.

The large gate has a statue of the Harpy on each side, looking far more foreboding than Yunkai and Astapor. The masters and slaves gather around the top of the wall, peering over.

Dany dismounts from her horse and allows a Dothraki to move her to the side. But I remain on top of Caraxes, leaning forward with my arms crossed above the reins. Missandei stands next to me, and her nervous look has me reaching out my hand so we can lace the limbs together. Grey Worm stands on my other side, and we look at each other solemnly.

The gate opens, and my sister asks, "Are they attacking?"

"A single rider. A champion of Meereen." Jorah corrects, and I watch as the man rides out on his horse, a long yellow plume on his helmet. "They want you to send your own champion against him." He looks at me, briefly, worried.

I listen to the cheers that come from behind the gates of Meereen. The man dismounts, and as soon as he speaks I find myself wishing I had a bow and arrow in my hands. I haven't done archery in years, not since I used to hunt for food.

"What is he doing?" My sister asks as the man unlaces his riding pants, still insulting my sister and myself. Though, 'whore' has become so overused an insult that I just roll my eyes.

"I believe he means to -" The sound of the champion urinating in front of us stops Ser Barristan. The city laughs, but I only sigh. Men.

And this one is saying we're an army of men with no cocks. He claims my sister and I are not women, only a men who hide their cocks in their own asshole.

Missandei translates for those who do not speak Valyrian. "Ignore them, Your Graces. These are meaningless words." Ser Barristan assures us.

"They're not meaningless if half the city you intend to take is listening to them." Jorah argues, and I nod, then falter. 'Take the city.' We're taking the city? I stare at the back of Dany's head. This is not what I wanted. Not what I agreed to. I only wanted to free those in chains, not rule over them. I want to bring justice for all those children

The champion keeps speaking, but I ignore him, focusing instead on my sister. "I have something to say to the people of Meereen. First, I will need this one to be quiet."

Despite my inner turmoil I snort and nod. "You could say that again."

She smirks and turns. "Do I have a champion?"

"Dany, I can -" I start, but she shakes her head, a stern look on her face.

"There is absolutely no way." I frown but nod, accepting her order.

Grey Worm speaks up. "Allow me this honor, Mother of Dragons. I will not disappoint you, or your sister." He promises.

My sister gives him a soft, motherly look. "You are the commander of the Unsullied. I cannot risk you."

"Your Grace, I've won more single combats than any man alive." Ser Barristan argues, but my sister gives him a look.

"Which is why you must remain by my side."

My heart clenches in fear as Jorah walks to my sister. He's my family, I can't lose him. "I've been by your side longer than any of them, Khaleesi." No, please. Don't let your love for my sister cost you your life. "Let me stand for you today as well."

"You are my most trusted advisor, and my dearest friend. I will not gamble with your life." I let out a sigh of relief, unheard by the others.

"I was the last to join your army." Daario speaks up. "I'm not a general," he nods to me, "or a member of your Queensguard, or the commander of the Unsullied. My mother was a whore. I come from nothing. And before long, I will return to nothing. Let me kill this man for you."

My sister raises her eyebrows, an interested look on her face. "Very well. You have quite an audience." She turns to face Meereen. "Make it worth their while."

Missandei glances at me quickly before walking to join my sister, and I dismount from Caraxes, holding his reins in my left hand, Jorah's hand on my right shoulder.

The champion grabs his blue lance from a squire. Daario walks ahead to face the man, my sister briefly joining them. I smile at the image, and pray to any god listening to keep Naharis safe, for her sake. She walks to me and Jorah steps aside, and I hold her hand in mine.

We watch with nervous breath as the man gallops towards Daario, but our friend does not move. He only turns around to wink at my sister, and I snort. But when the champion is halfway to him… that's when he strikes. He lifts his dagger to his shoulder, kisses the hilt, and faster than lightning flings it into the horses eye, causing it to collapse, sand kicking up as the champion rolls. I wince, gently patting Caraxes.

The champion rolls and struggles to stand. Daario swings his arakh, and the man's head is sliced clean off. Meereen falls silent, then the masters order their guards to fire upon us, and a volley of arrows pierce the ground before us in a scattered row. To my great amusement, the former lieutenant of the Second Sons pulls out his own cock and pisses on the ground in front of him, a taunt. May Daario Naharis never lose his sense of humor.

Dany looks to me and I nod, my stomach in knots about what the outcome of our actions will be. Do those in chains deserve to only be under another's rule? Will we truly be liberating these people.

But still, I stand with my sister. She needs my support. We have to show a unified front, or others will doubt her. The Unsullied stand at attention, facing Meereen's gates. My twin and I walk forward, standing side-by-side. _"We are Daenerys Stormborn and Jaenarys Fireborn."_ She says, up to the people gathering at the top of the wall. It's a message, for those in chains. _"Your Masters may have told you lies about us, or they may have told you nothing. It does not matter. We have nothing to say to them."_ She looks to me, and nods. I give her a confused look, and she nudges her head towards the wall. Oh.

I look back up, then speak with as much passion as my sister. _"We speak to you, the people in chains, who deserve a far better fate; freedom."_

There is a relative silence, the masters murmuring to each other. My sister speaks up once more, smiling proudly at me before addressing the slaves. _"First, we went to Astapor. Those who were slaves in Astapor, now stand behind us, free." _She gestures to the Unsullied army, and I can't help but wonder if those men are really free, too._ "Next, we went to Yunkai. Those who were slaves in Yunkai, now stand behind us. Free.__"_ She looks to me, and I nod, summoning my strength rather than my questioning.

_"Now we've come to Meereen. We are not your enemy! Your enemy is enslavement! Your enemy is unwilling servitude! Your enemy stands beside you, stealing and murdering your children! They give you nothing but chains and suffering, and no ability to choose for yourself! But now, you have a choice! As do your cruel masters."_

Dany nods at me, then turns to some of her army. _"Forward!"_ She commands, and the Unsullied push forward the catapults, all carrying a large barrell.

I hold up my hand to stop them in place, becoming the general my sister made me. _"Fire!"_ I shout, and the barrels shoot through the sky like our dragons. I listen as they shatter against buildings and the wood cracks open. The collars of the freed slaves of Yunkai and Astapor rain down, and I watch as the enslaved Meereenese hold them in their hands, truly seeing the freedom we spoke about. Then I watch the masters as they back away, shifting and calling out their orders. But it's too late. The seed of liberation has been planted, and the only thing more powerful than fear is hope.

* * *

_Somewhere on the Narrow Sea (Robb's POV)..._

My hands ache, bloodied from the ropes I've had to tie over, and over again. The Captain and his men do nothing, only drink and feast while their enslaved work. And when the work is not done properly, if a man falls or staggers from exhaustion, then the masters whip.

I'm weak, and broken. I know that, Captain Lazar zo Loraq and his men know that.

I do not speak the language the slaves do. I'm not sure if Talisa would've known. Essos is far different from my homeland.

Talisa. What would she say if she saw me in chains? She left Volantis to escape a land where slavery was legal. And now, her husband's been sold. The gods are indeed cruel, and fate is ironic. How I wish I could break from these chains and row back to Westeros to find Sansa and keep her safe. I want to slice Lord Baelish's throat as deep as the Frey man slit my mother's. I want to watch him bleed to death for what he has done to the only family I truly knew I had left.

"Boy!" The Captain shouts, and I realize the line I tied has become undone. My body shifts in the wind, carrying me near the ledge. I could fall overboard. But I don't care.

Someone does, though. The Captain tugs me back so harshly I bang my head against the base of the mast, my vision slightly blurry before straightening. When I touch the spot I hit, I'm shocked there's no blood.

Captain Lazar glares down at me, his hands coiling and uncoiling his whip. "You are a gift for my brother on behalf of Lord Baelish. You cannot not escape your fate. Stand." I struggle, supporting myself on the wood. "Not fast enough. Xahes!" He shouts to his guards and a strong man steps forward, looking more like a mountain than a man.

Xahes lifts me by the collar attached to my slave clothes, and I realize I'm light enough that my feet dangle in the air. "Xahes, show my brother's gift what we do with weak men."

"Yes, my Captain." The sailor sets me down, and before I can react he smacks me across the face and I fall to the floor. The slaves bow their heads, silent. But I do not blame them. It's been only a few days for me. But for them, this has been their lives.

Xahes brings me up, only to drag me to the mast and force me to face it. Two more sailors tie my wrists to the posts, and the back of my tunic is ripped.

"I do this in the name of my brother. May you grow stronger from it, boy." Captain Lazar mutters.

There's nothing, then a singing noise and a sharp flick against my skin. I howl in pain, just as I heard Grey Wind howl at the Twins, during the wedding. The whip continues to sing in the air. My howls become hoarse, and I'm ashamed to feel tears sliding down my cheeks. Finally, the lashes stop. The only thing holding me up is the rope binding my hands to the posts.

The men laugh behind me, jeering at my weakness. They call me broken, defeated. Theirs to order, theirs to punish. And oh gods, how I wish I could've been left to die in King's Landing. I'd be Robb Stark of Winterfell, there. Not "boy."

Robb Stark, a man with a name.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write!**

**In this chapter, we have the events of 4x04: The Siege of Meereen, plus a few added scenes. There's also the punishment of the masters, and a cute new addition that will be a regular of my series.**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Oh, and the cute new addition. Bold is Dothraki, italics is Valyrian.**

* * *

After having made our speech to the slaves of Meereen, we marched to our chosen camp site. The freed Yunkai slaves set up the tents - another command from my sister. I saw a little girl struggling with a post and went up to help her, lifting her onto my shoulder so she'd be high enough to tie the rope. I'm short, too, and I wouldn't have been able to reach it on my own.

Of course, the other children saw me carrying her and clamored over to me, much to the horror of their parents who seemed to think it'd be unwelcome. People really must stop putting me on a pedestal. I fight with the Unsullied, I will play with the freed. So I kissed the little girl's cheek and set her down, picking up the other kids and running around with one on my back and one in my arm. They laughed, loudly and freely, finally sounding like the children they are rather than the enslaved they were. Children should be allowed to be children.

I had heard someone clear their throat, and looked over to see Jorah, Barristand, and Daario watching me. "Oh, come on, look at how cute they are!" I had called out to them, but my eyes focused on Barristan. He had this look on his face, like he was seeing a ghost. Strange. He never looks at me like that. It's always respectful and kind, but like a stern teacher to their student. They left me in peace, though, and a few hours later my sister found me sitting around a fire pit, telling the children my favorite story.

_"And then, I turned my head. The fire had gone out. I felt alive, and I felt my Davvi stirring on me. But I was worried for my sister. I should not have been. For our Queen was just as unburnt as I, cradling her three dragons." _Two little boys gasped, their parents smiling at them. _"I know, it was truly a sight. And so my sister rose, stronger than the flames."_ I had then ran my hand through the fire, watching the flames lick at my limb, but I remained unscorched. I showed it to the children and my small gathering of parents, smiling softly at the wonder on their faces. _"And as she was stronger than fire, she brings hope to those in fear. And hope is what helps us survive."_

"Mhysa! Mhysa!" They began to shout as she approached, and I smiled at them.

_"If you'll excuse me, I believe my sister needs me."_

_"Another story, please!"_ A slightly older girl requested, then looked taken aback by herself for asking something of me. _"Sorry. I'm sorry."_

I shook my head and shushed her, cupping her face in mine. _"You are free to ask what you wish. This I promise you. I shall tell you a story tomorrow. Perhaps one of my ancestor, Rhaenys. Goodnight, little ones."_ I bid them farewell and bowed my head at the parents before walking to Dany.

My sister took my hand and lead me through the camp. "You're good with them." She finally said. I gave her a confused look, and she smiles. "You've always been good with people. I've never met a princess more eager to mingle with others."

"Well, to be fair, I'm the only other princess you know aside from yourself." She snorted, and I grinned at the unQueenly action. "They deserve to be treated as human. To not have to continue serving."

"Something tells me you are not just speaking talking about our people." I sighed. "Meereen. You don't approve of our taking it?"

"Dany, it isn't ours to take."

Dany sighed and stopped, turning me to face her. She cupped my chin and gave me a sad smile. "We must. Only for a short while."

"You mean to use them as practice for Westeros?" I asked in disbelief. "Dany, that is cruel."

"I will be a better ruler than the masters, and the people will be free."

I shook my head. "No, Dany. They may not have chains on, but they will have to follow you."

"Oh, hāedar." My sister kissed my forehead. "That is what ruling is. But I promise, both to you and myself, that those enslaved in Meereen will be unchained. Have faith in me."

I nodded, looking her in the eyes. "Always, Dany. I'll always have faith in you."

"Good." A moment of silence then passed, until she smiled warmly at me, as she used to before her marriage to Drogo. "That was quite the story you told."

I smiled back at her, mirroring her expression. "It's all true. You were there."

She kissed my cheek, then, lacing our arms together. "You are truly the best thing in my life."

* * *

That had been last night. It's nearing sundown, now. I sit with Grey Worm in his tent, watching as he carefully traces over a roll of parchment. "My… name… is… Grey Worm." He reads in the common tongue. I've been teaching him and a few other Unsullied when we have the chance, wanting them to not be limited when it comes to the languages of the world. Besides, the people in Westeros don't know Valyrian like we do. But for Grey Worm, it's not just to become more worldly. I have a best friend who enjoys languages, after all. "I come… from… the Summer Ills."

"Summer Isles." I gently correct. He nods, never getting frustrated. Perhaps he should. He is human, after all.

"Summer Isles." He repeats, and I smile at him.

Someone clears their throat and I turn in my chair. "Come in!" I smile when I see Missandei enter, a confused look on her face.

"You asked for me, Jae?"

"Well, don't put it like that." I playfully frown, enough to show her I'm only joking. "But yes. I know you've also been helping Grey Worm with the common tongue. Unfortunately, I have to go and get ready for… you know. Could you stay and finish our lesson, if you aren't busy?"

Missandei gives me a confused look, and Grey Worm honestly looks a little panicked. "I, oh… of course."

I perk up, standing and kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you, Deia. Grey Worm, I shall see you later."

"Jaenarys -" He speaks in the common tongue, but I merely wave off his nervous tone.

"Sorry, I must go. Have fun!" I shout, giggling to myself as I leave my two friends behind. I walk through the camp, smiling and waving to the people milling about. The Unsullied stood at attention when they saw me, but I am genuinely pleased to see the one called Ant actually gives me a small, awkward wave.

I don't get far, though, before my sister and Barristan stop me. My sister has a twinkle in her eyes. "So, were you successful?"

I grin and nod. "Yes. She's teaching him, now. Poor Grey Worm was nervous." Dany look surprised. "I know. I told you so. Besides, Deia looks forward to her lessons with him, too. I felt bad she's been too busy recently to focus on him."

Dany grins and squeezes my arm. "You are more meddlesome than you pretend, hāedar." Then she sighs. "You need to get ready, though. It's time."

"Okay. Just, can you give them a few more moments?" I request, voice soft. She nods.

"Of course. Now go."

I nod and kiss her cheek before running towards my tent. Davvi is snoring away, but she blinks open an eye when I trip over the stool pulling on the former slave outfit of a Yunkai woman named Ghisina, who has my exact build. I gave her one of my outfits in return, having already given as many pieces as would fit them to the other women who'd just been freed. She seemed pleased, but I just want them to be able to wear what they choose rather than what they're forced to. Silk or leathers, it's up to them.

Of course, my hair is an issue but easy to fix as I wrap a scarf around it. My eyes are their own problem, but I'll just keep my head down. Thankfully the dress is loose enough that I can hide my sword under it, but I feel naked without my arakh.

"Jae, it is time." My sister calls.

"Okay!" I walk over to the floor by my bed and kiss Davvi's snout, smiling at the pleased rumble. "I will return. Listen to your aunt." With that I'm leaving my tent and joining the group of Unsullied who will be joining me. It pains me to see them wearing slave garment, but Grey Worm had told me he was proud to if it meant they would be freeing others. So I regretfully accept it.

"You will be safe?" My sister asks me, Daario, Jorah, and Barristan behind her. I smile at them, then kiss my sister's forehead.

"For you? Always." I part from her and nod at the Unsullied, and we race through the hills towards the body of water separating our camp from the back gates of Meereen.

* * *

The water we rush through is cool, but not unpleasant. We silently run up the dirt and sand path to the wall, coming upon the tunnels our scouts found last night. Grey Worm and I look at each other and pull up at the grating, another Unsullied - White Rat - tugs down on the pulley to help release it. The commander and I grunt and push up with our knees, lifting the grating into its slot. Grey Worm enters first and I follow him, standing to the side and helping the rest of our group in. Once inside, Ant hands out the torches from inside his satchel. Wishing I had Davvi with me, I instead scrape a sharp stone against a dry rock, creating a spark to light the oiled cloth. We hold the other torches against the lit one, then continue on our way through the tunnel until we've reached the interior hub of Meereen.

Finally, we reach the hall leading to the chamber where the scouts told us the slaves planned to meet. In the distance, I can hear one impassioned young man speaking.

_"You heard them. They said they came to free us!"_

_"You're a fool."_ An older man responds, defeated. _"The Masters are too strong."_

_"They will protect us! We've heard other tell stories of Mhysa and Mīsio!" _The younger man argues. _"They defeated the Masters' champion!"_ The slaves murmur amongst themselves. _"They have a great army. You want to live the rest of your days in chains?"_

_"I want to live!"_ A different man argues._ "You saw what they did to those children."_ I can feel my face darkening at the memory of all the little bodies I buried, of the dirt scrubbed into my skin that can never be cleaned. _"What do you think they'll do to us?"_

The older man from before speaks up again. _"I've been through two slave revolts, boy. They always end the same way: the Masters in power and the slaves dead."_ As he talks we walk in through the doorway. I keep my head down a bit, not wanting to alarm anyone of the presence of the Targaryen twin with violet eyes until we're ready to do so.

_"All men must die." _Grey Worm announces in that even tone of his, and the slaves look up in shock. _"But I promise you, a single day of freedom is worth more than a lifetime in chains."_ I smile, proud of my friend. He walks to the older man who argued against revolting.

_"Who are you?"_ The man asks.

_"This one is called Grey Worm. I was taken as a baby by the Masters of Astapor, raised and trained as an Unsullied." _He's told me his story, in the hours we've spent going over the common tongue. But hearing it again still makes my heart clench and my stomach lurch. _"Now I fight for Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons and the Breaker of Chains. I fight beside Jaenarys, the Young Dragon and the Liberator."_ He gestures to me, and I remove the scarf from my head, letting it fall to the ground and releasing my long silver curls. I look at the room around me, the slaves staring at my violet eyes with scared awe. Then I smile at Grey Worm. I've never been called "the Young Dragon." But I think I love it. So I will keep it. He bows his head to me in respect.

_"You are the Princess!"_ The young man vehemently fighting for freedom gasps, then kneels. The others follow him, but I shake my head and get down on my knees, moving my sword so it doesn't get caught. _"No, no. There is no need to kneel to me."_ They stare at me, gaging to see if I am pulling a cruel trick on them, I suppose. And the thought of that makes me want to tear up all over again, but I push through. _"Despite what those bastards have made you believe all you lives, you are people. Flesh and blood, just like me. And just like them."_

The older man seems to understand what I'm saying, and he frowns. _"You are a warrior. The Unsullied were taught to fight before they could walk."_ He gestures to the crowd. _"We are not soldiers!"_

_"We have no training."_ Another man announces. _"No weapons."_

At this, I smile and pull off the satchel on my back. I nod back at my companions, still kneeling, and Grey Worm is the first to remove his own bag. We set them on the floor, showing the slaves the weapons. The man arguing with the younger cautiously lifts a blade as the others do, and looks at me.

I lean forward, pressing a hand to his cheek cautiously, not wanting to scare him. Though slightly skittish he stands his ground, and I stroke his dirty cheek. _"You do not need to be a soldier, in order to be a fighter my friend. But the choice is yours."_ He nods at me and I remove my hand, standing.

_"There are three slaves in this city for every master. No one can give you your freedom, brothers. If you want it, you must take it."_ Grey Worm tells them, a fire burning in his eyes. It's not a dangerous look, not really. It's one of a man who is starting to know his worth, and wishes for others to see their worth too.

* * *

Dany and I push through the throng of screaming slaves, my sister's eyes briefly flashing to the Targaryen flag hanging around the Harpy on the Great Pyramid.

"Grey Worm, move a little to your left." I said, watching as he and Ant held onto the statue, pulling up the flag I had previously kept folded in my slave cloak. "Ant, a little higher. Perfect!" I clapped, not afraid of alerting anyone to our presence. Thanks to the Unsullied and myself, every master in the Great Pyramid was rounded up and placed in their own chains, led down to the city by the same people they had forced into slavery.

The Targaryen flag - black with the red three-headed dragon sewn in - waved in the breeze, the golden statue reflecting the rising sun.

The shouts of "Mhysa" and "Mīsio" pull me from my memory, as does a small hand latching onto mine. I see a little boy holding it, his other hand tugging at the collar around his neck. I stop walking to crouch down and tug it off him, pulling him into a hug. The boy wraps his too-skinny arms around my neck and I lift him up.

_"Where are your parents?"_ I ask him, leaning into his ear so he can ignore my shouts.

_"Dead for three years, Mīsio."_ He responds, shaking a little. Gods, he looks as though he's only eight. I close my eyes and lift him higher, carrying him with me as I hurry to catch up to my sister. She stares at me, confused, and I mouth,

"Orphan." She instantly nods and smiles at me, allowing me to keep the boy in my arms.

The slaves around us are throwing their chains to the ground and shouting, a few of their hands reaching out to touch my red satin dress, of a similar design to the one Illyrio had gifted my sister when she was meeting Drogo. I'd changed into it all too quickly, Dany having brought it with her when we met in the now freed city.

We climb up the steps to the landing overlooking most of Meereen. To the side, we see the masters staring up at us in fear, our Unsullied and the Second Sons Daario brought with him blocking them from escape.

The little boy shivers and I hold him closer to me. My sister looks down at the masters. "Remind me, Ser Jorah. How many children did the Great Masters nail to mileposts?"

I answer for him, knowing all too well. "163, Daenerys."

"Yes, that was it." She looks to Grey Worm, and I look to him as well. But he only nods at his men, who escort the screaming masters away.

"Dany?" She gives me a look, running a hand through the little boy's cropped hair.

"They must pay."

Ser Barristan only clears his throat, though. "Your Graces, may I have a word?" He requests. My sister sighs but we join him off to the side. "The city is yours." He directs to Dany, but also looks at me. "All these people, they're your subjects now. Sometimes it is better to answer injustice with mercy."

My sister glares up at him, mind already made up. "I will answer injustice with justice." His face falls, but she pays no mind to that as she turns to look at me and the boy in my arms. "What do you say? You are the Sword of Justice, after all." I see in her eyes that she's only humoring me, but then I think on Ser Barristan's words. He was a member of our father's kingsguard. He only means us good. He is as wise as he is a strong and noble warrior.

"What if we were to hold a trial? Find the guiltiest of all the masters, the ones who went beyond chaining another life. We find the ones responsible for the children, and we see justice is met." My sister raises an eyebrow, but Ser Barristan gives me a small smile. "Mercy and justice, Dany. As for the other masters… they've been stripped of everything that made them powerful. They've lost what they declared was property. But for the children, we nail up those responsible." I offer.

My sister sighs. "There is no time for that. We must make a point. Take a stand. Those who do harm, become the harmed."

I sigh. "Alright. You are the Queen."

She looks at me and the little boy, then kisses my cheek. "As you are my sister. I value your council, but… I fear this is what I must do."

"And if the masters revolt?" I ask.

She gives me a smirk. "Then thank the gods I have an army and the fiercest warrior princess by my side. My Young Dragon."

"How did you know?" I ask as Daario and Jorah come over to us, Missandei and Grey Worm following closely. We ascend the steps towards the Great Pyramid, the little boy light in my arms.

"It is what Grey Worm has called you since Astapor." I blink at her.

"Why?"

She smiles and wraps an arm around my waist, minding the boy. "He says there is a fire in your eyes that burns like the flames from dragons. And he is right. My Young Dragon."

I turn my head to smile at Grey Worm, who timidly smiles back, Missandei blushing next to him as they quietly talk. I look over at my sister again. "I do like it much better than Dragonmother."

"But that is what you are. A mother to a dragon." Dany tells me.

I shake my head and sigh. "It does not feel like that for me, my sister. Davvi is different. She is… she feels like a part of me, but not as a child would. Like she is a greater version than me.

My sister stares into my eyes, searching for some answer. She smiles when she gets it, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Grey Worm is right. You truly are a Young Dragon. Now, what are we going to do with your new friend?" She asks me, and this time the smile bursts into her blue-green orbs.

I smile at the boy as he lifts his head. _"What is your name?"_

_"Vimor, Mīsio."_

_"Vimor. You may call me Jae. Do you have any family."_

_"Dead, Jae."_ He sadly mutters. I nod, briefly glancing at my sister before making my own choice, one I vow to honor.

_"Then you will be my family, my little Vimor."_

Vimor smiles at me, his big brown eyes the brightest thing I've ever seen.

When we reach the Great Pyramid and enter it, I set the boy down on the ground, but we refuse to release each other's hand. My sisters moves ahead, and we weave our way around until we reach the balcony of the the council room, the highest part of the structure.

I stand beside my sister, helping Vimor onto my back, and the three of us look down at Meereen. I internally wince at the echoing screaming of the masters, but I can't find it in myself to feel sorry for them. I truly do believe my words. Mercy and Justice. But perhaps my sister was right, too.

And whatever comes next, we will face together. One soul, one heart.

We have to.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write!**

**I'm changing some things up this update! I really want to focus on my story and draw it out, so I'll be adding in a few chapters between each episode! This one occurs five days after the Seige of Meereen, almost a fortnight into Robb's enslavement. It takes place before the events of 4x05, and there is a return of a plot point from season 2, a cute interaction between Jae and her new shadow Vimor, and fight training with Ser Barristan and Jorah. It ends on a cliffhanger, and the next chapter will follow this one directly. This chapter also has the return of Robb's POV!**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Oh, and the cute new addition. Bold in a dialogue is Dothraki, italics in a dialogue is Valyrian.**

* * *

_The first thing I see is the sky. Bright and blue, clouds scattered around with the sun beaming through them. The first thing I feel is wind pushing all around me, running through my freed silver locks and chilling the intricate armor covering my body. My dress blowing around my breech-clad legs. The first thing I hear is the air roaring around me._

_I'm flying. Really, truly flying._

_I stare down at my hands as they grip at the spikes on the back of a silver neck, my leather gloves protecting my skin from being torn. My eyes glance up, and I see what I'm on._

_It's a dragon, but it is not Davvi. Davvi has black scales and bronze tinted wings. The beast I ride is completely silver, blending in with the clouds as I soar through them._

_"Hang tight, little one." A female murmurs into my ear. But I turn, and see nothing._

_Then the dragon rolls in the sky and I scream. My hands slip from the spikes they were holding and I fall, closing my eyes. But soon the winds stop, and I feel myself sitting on something soft. I roll onto my stomach and open my eyes. Grass. Soft, green grass, wildflowers popping up from around the hills._

_"I did tell you to hold on." The woman says, and I return to my previous position._

_She has long, loose silver-gold hair and kind violet eyes. Her body is slender, and she wears black and red armor. It's as though I'm looking into a mirror, only the reflection I see is older and stronger._

_"Who are you?" I ask, then hear a dragon roar. Looking up, I watch the silver beast land on a boulder behind the woman, gold eyes peering into mine apologetically._

_"Little one, you know who I am. Or have you forgotten your history?"_

_I look back and forth between the woman and the dragon, then take a step back. "This is a dream. Another dream." I murmur._

_The woman smiles in amusement, though it's still kind. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not."_

_"Thank you, that really clears everything up." I mutter. "I know you. And I know that dragon. Rhaenys, and Meraxes."_

_Rhaenys stands even taller, a proud look on her face. "Aegor was right. You are quite perceptive."_

_"Aegor? You know Aegor?" I ask. "How did I get here?"_

_"Of course I know Aegor. In death, we find each other." She cryptly tells me, and I blink. "And you are here because you willed it."_

_"How?" I ask. "This all stopped, after Qarth. Why has it come back? Please, tell me!" I demand. "Is this just a dream?"_

_"That is not the question you wish answered." She tells me, then Meraxes slinks over to her. My ancestor lifts her hand and rubs the large snout, just as I do to Davvi._

_"What question is that?"_

_"You will know, in time." Rhaenys tells me. She smiles and takes my hand, the image blinking before it settles on her gentle touch. "We are much alike, little one."_

_"You were a dragonrider. A warrior. A queen. I am only one of those. You are thinking of my sister." I argue._

_Rhaenys raises her eyebrow, a soft look of contemplation on her face. "Why do you doubt yourself, little one?"_

_I grit my teeth. "I don't."_

_At this, her violet eyes burn brighter, cutting into me. "I see who you are, Jaenarys. What you really are. Now, you must see it for yourself."_

_"Rhaenys, please. I don't understand." I beg, but my ancestors only walks up the silver wing of Meraxes._

_"But you will. I promise."_

I shoot up in bed, gasping for breath. The light from the large balcony attached to my room pours in, and I feel my satin dress clinging to the sweat on my body. Someone knocks on my door and I get out from under the covers, quickly tugging on the red robe crumpled on the floor. "Who is it?" I call.

"Boy for you, Princess." One of my Unsullied guards responds, practicing his common tongue. His name is Black Lice.

I smile as I walk to the door and open it quickly, crouching down to see Vimor holding up a tray of food. "And what is this, my love?" I ask of the child.

_"I brought you breakfast, Princess."_ He tells me. _"I am sorry it is late."_ He flinches, and my heart tightens.

I gently reach out and take the tray, only to set it on the ground by my knees. I pull Vimor into my arms.

_"You do not serve me, Vimor. You do not serve anyone. Thank you for the food, but it was not necessary my love. Come, eat with me. If you'd like."_ I gently offer, smiling when I see him staring down at my tray hungrily.

_"Thank you, Princess."_

I sigh and stand, holding the tray in one hand and slipping my other into his eyes. _"As I've said the past five days, Vimor; you can call me Jae."_

He shakes his head. _"It isn't proper."_

I place the tray on the round table on the balcony and pull out my seat, sitting down and pulling Vimor onto my lap. Davvi lays curled in a ball in the corner, snoring away with steam escaping her nostrils. _"Neither is one person owning another. You are not owned, not anymore. But as I said, you are my family now. So call me Jae."_

He gives me a small smile and nods, curling up a bit in my lap. _"Yes, Jae." _He tries, letting me name roll off his tongue. I kiss the child's temple and hand him a few grapes, smiling as they disappear from view.

_"Eat a little slower, my love. I do not wish you to be sick."_ He nods at my request and slows done, but is no less enthusiastic about the pile of food before us.

As we eat, Davvi starts to rise. I notice just how big she's grown, her wings nearly the size of a small horse. Vimor squirms on my lap and I set him down, rising to approach her. _"Good morning, Davvi."_ I whisper, and she slinks towards me in a way so similar to Meraxes that it's like I'm back in my dream.

Davvi raises her snout and I scratch under it, my mind occupied with the memory of riding the dragon. Then falling. I should've held on tighter.

_"Jae."_ Vimor whimpers, and I turn to the scared boy.

_"It is alright, Vimor."_ He backs away. I nod and turn to Davvi, kissing her snout. _"Fly."_ I whisper and she nods, climbing onto the balcony wall and diving off, soaring into the clouds. A small body pushes me to the side and Vimor races to the balcony, gasping loudly at the sight of Davvi rolling in the clouds, diving past birds and sweeping above Meereen.

_"Will she hurt anyone?"_ Vimor finally asks me, looking down at his feet nervously. I look up at my dragon, eyes following her every move.

_"A dragon is still a dragon, no matter how kind and gentle they seem."_ I warn him, then take his hand in mine. "But she will not hurt you. No one will, not if I can help it." We look back up at the sky and Vimor leans against me. I look down at him again, a pensive look gracing my face as I rethink my words. Safety is not something you can promise, not in the long run. But he does not need to know that. Not after what he's been through.

* * *

Vimor giggles as his feet kick in the air, the chair he sits on taller than he is. I smile despite the fact Jorah just knocked me down, my sparring sword lying beside my head. "You are favoring your left side, little dragon." He tells me, holding out his hand to help me up. I stand and pick up my sword, twirling it in my right hand before getting in position. "Let's try again. Remember, if a man twice your size lunges for your dominant side -"

"Stick to the other side. Yes, I know." I moan, and Jorah laughs, his normally sad blue eyes shining. "And you are not twice my size!"

"I fear Ser Jorah is right, Your Grace." Ser Barristan announces, walking through the door and glancing to the laughing boy with a small smile. "I see your shadow remains by your side."

I look at the boy who's now treating himself to more fruit and grin. "I've grown very fond of him these past few days, Barristan. _Vimor__,"_ the boy turns to me, a guilty look on his face, _"do not forget to drink some water."_ He smiles at me, teeth flashing as he pours some clear liquid into a goblet.

"You are kind, little dragon." Jorah smiles at me, pride shining on his features.

I sigh and run a hand through my sweaty hair. "But he is not the only orphan, is he?" I ask, watching Vimor as he carefully examines a gold spoon.

"No, Your Grace." Barristan agrees.

I nod and sigh. "Perhaps my sister will find a means to help them."

"She will. Your sister is kind, too." I don't miss the wistful look in Jorah's eyes. I clear my throat.

"Shall we do this again?" I ask, and Jorah nods.

"Of course, Jaenarys." He lifts his sword and I wait for him to charge at me. As his sword swings down I twist and block, kicking him in the back of the knee. He stumbles and I move my sword to the back of his neck, but Jorah turns all the same and blocks my swing, using his shoulder to bump me in the stomach. I fall onto my back.

"Block, Your Grace!" Barristan orders and I raise my sword on the diagonal, gritting my teeth to hold Jorah's sparring sword in place. But he's strong, and the wooden weapon descends towards me.

Suddenly, I get an idea. One I'll regret later, but I want to win, and it's hard to fight honorable in a battle, when your opponent is larger and stronger.

So, with a growl, I bring my leg up so my foot slams into Jorah's crotch. He shouts in pain and falls, and I shoot up into a standing position to kick away his weapon, my sword as his throat. I wince when I see the pained tears in his eyes. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. I just, I didn't want to lose again and I -" He waves me off and struggles to stand, Barristan helping him up.

"Perhaps our lesson of the day should end here, little dragon. If you'll excuse me." He staggers off and I flinch at the sight. I look up to see Barristan smiling down at me.

"That was underhanded." He simply comments. I frown, hoping he isn't disappointed. "But in a fight, one must rely on training and instincts."

"But it wasn't noble." I tell him, confused. Barristan nods and places a warm hand on my shoulder, avoiding a slowly forming bruise.

"Your Grace, I have never been in a fight where both men fought cleanly. Battles are messy, combat is messy. Still, had your fight with Ser Jorah been real, you would have been killed your second move." He tells me, voice and eyes stern. I stand at attention, recognizing his words as a lesson, rather than an insult. "Would you like to know why?"

"Yes." I answer.

He nods. "Stand at position." I do as he asks, and he shakes his head.

"No, your hips are too squared. I'm sure Ser Jorah has shown you."

"Yes, Ser Barristan." I answer, then shift so I'm standing properly, and he nods. I lift my sword and he moves around me, fixing my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see Vimor jumping from his seat, copying my movement. The thought makes me smile. Everyone should know how to defend themselves.

"Excellent. Now, if someone charges at you, do not try to block his movement. He is taller and stronger. Instead, move out of the way. Turn your body to the side. His momentum will carry him, and he will stumble. Your size makes you faster, so use it. Use your speed. He'll be confused, and that is when you attack." He picks up Jorah's fallen sparring sword and holds it up. "Now, shall we try this again?"

I nod and get back into the position, growing more comfortable of the weight in my hands. With a nod, Ser Barristan comes at me. At first, I do as he told me, but my own quickness has me stumbling and falling. "Again, Your Grace." I grit my teeth and stand, rolling my shoulder. "Unless you need a break?"

I shake my head. "No. Let's do this again."

And we did, again and again. Most times I landed on my ass, the cold hard ground slippery. A few times I managed to startle him, only for the more experienced fighter to disarm me. "Dead."

That's what I head, over and over. "Dead. Dead. Dead. Very dead."

Finally, I shakily stand, completely out of breath. Vimor starts to walk to me, holding a goblet of water. I grimace but shake my head. "Not yet, little one." Not catching his reaction I twirl the sword in my right hand, Ser Barristan shaking his head. "You are too unfocused, Your Grace."

"I don't know. I have a good feeling about my next attempt." I sass, my tiredness coming out. He nods and stands at position, and I do the same.

He comes at me, just as strong as the past twenty times. But my tiredness has motivated me. My need to win, to prove myself has motivated me. I spin out of the way and watch as he stumbles, then - relying on instinct - I twist again, knowing he is too quick with his sword for me to disarm immediately. My mind is not as focused as it once was, the memory of my dream playing over and over.

His sword hits my arm, breaking me out of my thoughts. I twist out of the way once more and dodge his swing, catching the next one with my sword. As the wood clashes together he pushes forward. I plant my back foot and propel all of my body weight towards him, finding a burning strength in my core that has the knight stumbling back. I swing my sword and disarm him, then twirl my own wooden weapon in my hand and press it against his neck.

"Dead." I tell him, and Ser Barristan grins, pleased. Vimor begins to clap, jumping a bit. I hear louder clapping behind me and see that Jorah has returned, no longer in pain. "I'm so sorry, about before!" I instantly apologize, rushing towards him and hugging my oldest friend. He snorts but hugs me back.

"I'm only sorry I wasn't a good enough teacher to have you learn more tricks." I break away from him to see the blonde Andal looking at Ser Barristan, both a little tense. "Perhaps you should take over for the both of us."

Ser Barristan raises an eyebrow, but shakes his head. "No. You are a fair teacher, and Your Grace is a loyal student. But perhaps take it less easy on her."

"She is still the Princess, Ser Barristan. I cannot harm her." Ser Jorah reminds him, voice strong.

"And she is also our general. And a general must be a strong warrior. She will not be strong if we coddle her during lessons."

"Well, I -"

I throw my hands up. "Gods, both of you, enough!" I shout, wincing at my own volume when Vimor makes a scared noise. But I have to focus on my sister's advisors, and my friends. "Jorah, Ser Barristan is right. Please, do not coddle me if you respect me as a warrior. And Ser Barristan, Jorah is valid in his wishing to protect me, even when we fight. He is my oldest friend, the first Westerosi my sister and I met. He's looked out for the both of us when our brother had grown most cruel. He stood by our side always, even saving my sister and I from an assassination attempt. Please, remember that."

"Yes, Your Grace." Ser Barristan bows his head.

"Little dragon." Jorah tells me, a sad look on his face that quickly morphs into a small smile.

"Now, I need a bath. Would you mind taking Vimor to Missandei? He's grown quite fond of her, too."

"Of course." They bow again and I roll my eyes. Noting the little boy is still scared I walk to him cautiously, then kneel a few feet away from him.

_"I am sorry I raised my voice. I can only imagine how the cries of anger haunt you. My friends will take you to Missandei while I bathe."_

He nods. _"Yes, Princess. Jae."_ He quickly corrects. Then he places a small hand on my cheek. _"You are hurting?"_He asks, concern written all over his little face. I smile.

_"Only a few bruises. It happens, in a fight."_

_"But you will be careful?"_ The little boy innocently asks. I nod, not finding it in my heart to lie about what truly happens in battle.

_"I will be careful." _I kiss his palm then stand, walking out the door. But as I reach the stairs to ascend, cries of my sister's servants stop me. _"Princess, Princess!" _An older woman cries out, and I turn to look at her.

_"What is wrong?"_

_"Princess, your sister requests you!"_

_"Can you let her know I have to bathe, first?"_ I politely request, wincing at my commanding tone. I guess I am a little cranky.

She shakes her head. _"No, no. There is a slaver ship in the bay! A Meereen boat returns!"_ I look at her, eyes narrowing.

_"What?"_

_"The House of Loraq's colors fly!"_ The woman tells me.

I nod. _"Tell my sister I will meet her in the throne room. There is something I must do!"_ The woman nods and bows, then rushes back in the direction she came.

Confused but ready to stand with my sister I run back to my chambers, the blood in my veins pumping as I think of how confused the slavers will be when they see Meereen's masters fell in their absence.

So I grab my sword and arakh and ignore the smell of my sweat as I rush onto the balcony.

Davvi is crouched on the ledge, looking at me as alarmed as a dragon can. My panic seems to be reaching her, so I breathe in and out to calm myself._ "Davvi. I need you."_

* * *

_Meereen, Slaver's Bay (Robb's POV)..._

The sun is heavy on my skin. Our voyage took almost a fortnight, the ship cutting through the water fast. But it was our efforts - the slaves' efforts - that made our voyage swift.

My bared arms shake as I help a man whose name I don't know tie the sails, no longer requiring the wind to carry us. The rags I where are pale loose breeches now dirtied beyond repair. There is no tunic to accompany it, and though my skin is now tanned my body lacks the muscle it used to. I'm thin, my hair long despite the cut I received and my beard surely rivaling the late King Robert.

"Home." A man beside me tells me, accent sharp though he speaks my language.

"This is not my home." I say, though the man does not seem to understand. This is my new prison, it would seem. A strange place across the sea.

It is when the sailors and captain begin to panic in their language, that I start to realize perhaps I was wrong. But my fears are not put aside when the slaves around me point to the flag on top of a sharp triangular building. It is black, with the red emblem of a three-headed dragon embroidered on it. The Targaryen twins have taken Meereen. And the last time a Stark man saw them, he was burned.

Our Captain attempts to sail us away from the city, but something screeches above us, louder than anything I've heard. What I see amazes me and terrifies me all at once. A creature of legend soaring above me. It's eyes stare down at the ship in anger, it's scales are black and it's wings bronze. The arrival of the dragon stops our captors. Men in leather and intricate helmets board our vessel, spears and shields in their hands as they march in perfect synchronicity. They block us from the view of the masters and we clutch onto each other.

"Unsullied." The man who knows a little of my language tells me, eyes wide and happy. "Protect."

I watch as these Unsullied surround the masters, clamping them together and pointing their weapons at every part of their body. For the first time in a while, glee bubbles in my chest. Perhaps the old gods are on my side, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write!**

**Here it is! The moment we've all been waiting for! I've been working on this chapter in between writing the others because I really want to capture everything. The POVs will shift between Robb and Jae so we see everything they're thinking and feeling. For example, Robb will be distrusting, scared, angry, and a bit in awe. Jae will be angered by what happened to him, and protective and kind as she always is. But I promise it will be cute, and a great start for their relationship! So please, enjoy!**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Oh, and the cute new addition. Bold in a dialogue is Dothraki, italics in a dialogue is Valyrian.**

* * *

_(Robb's POV)…_

The Unsullied lead us through the streets. Men, women and children crowd around us, shouting and jeering at the Captain and the sailors in the front, all of whom look angered and confused. The black and bronze dragon flies above us, screeching dangerously before it lands on top of the statue holding the flag, wings out and roaring as though it won a battle.

I shakily walk up the many stairs to the triangular castle - a pyramid, I think I heard. Three slaves support me as we walk, not nearly as frail as I. Sadly, I remember that they are used to this life. But I am not. I was a lord, then a king. But now I'm in chains, and a pit grows in my stomach at the fact the air I'm breathing can be my last, if the Targaryens recognize me. I could lie, I should lie. But I will not die dishonest. I refuse.

Once inside the pyramid, we are lead up a turning walkway. The slaves around me laugh as the Unsullied shoves our Captain when he pauses.

Finally, we reach what I suspect is the throne room. A woman with silver hair stands from her chair, dressed in regal white silk, her silver locks braided. She has a commanding presence, one that cries out "royalty" to all who look upon her. But it's her eyes I notice, first. I notice them because of how normal they are. Violet eyes would stand out at any distance, but her's do not. So this is the Queen. The Mother of Dragons.

"What is the meaning of this?" Captain Loraq cries out, shifting around in the clutches of the Unsullied restraining him.

"You stand in the presence of Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, the Mother of Dragons." A woman with skin like dark tea with a splash of milk speaks, her brown hair curly and poofing prettily around her head.

"I don't give a fuck what her titles are. How dare you take control of Meereen!" Captain Loraq cries out.

The woman walks halfway down the steps, and I can see her clear enough to notice one eyebrow raising in disbelief.

"How dare you and your men claim a person as property?" Her voice is even. The Captain struggles with a response. "As you may have noticed, slavery in Meereen is no longer tolerated. The masters have been stripped of what makes them masters, not by our hands but by those who are now free."

The sailors murmur amongst themselves, and the Mother of Dragons speaks the same language that the slaves do. I've been around them enough to know how certain words sound. The slaves smile and tear off their collars, another helping me remove mine.

"You cannot get away with this!" The Captain declares, managing to throw off the Unsullied holding him and advances on the Queen.

But before he can get far, a blade swings out and lands just at his throat, close enough to cut. I can't see the attacker though. The Unsullied and the Captain are blocking him. But, as I soon find out, it's no man.

"Take one more step towards my sister and I'll cut your head clean off." A woman calmly declares, voice strong but with a slight musical tint to it.

"I am not scared of a child." Captain Loraq spits out.

"Not a child. But I have a dragon. I believe you met her?" The Captain staggers a bit. "Ah. You remember her. Well, she's hard to forget I suppose."

The Captain steps back and tiny footsteps walk away from him. I watch as a girl with loose silver curls walks up a few steps, the Queen nodding at her in thanks. She turns around, and I feel my jaw drop a bit.

She's tan, her skin glowing. Her hairline is damp, presumably from sweat. I can only tell because he silver hair is darker there. She wears loose breeches and a loose red tunic, leather sparring armor on top. A curved blade rests on one hip, a sword with a red gem on the base of the hilt gripped in her right hand.

But it's her eyes that draw me in. Bright violet embers, just as that man in the cell by mine said. They burn with anger, though, making her far more dangerous than the Queen. The Princess clearly has no qualms raising a weapon to a man triple her size, just for the sake of protecting her sister. The rage on her face has me stepping back. Was that what the Mad King looked like when he stared down upon my uncle and grandfather?

"You do not frighten me, child."

The girl narrows her eyes at the Captain. "Call me child one more time, and I will throw you from the top of this pyramid. You disgust me." She growls. "A human is not property." This has me opening my mouth once more, and I watch as she surveys us. Her eyes meet mine and she tilts her head before the violet orbs trace over the other faces. "Only a coward would do what you have done."

This has the Captain crying out in rage. He advances in her, his anger blinding him from remembering the sword in her hands. Or perhaps he just doesn't care.

It's no matter, though. The Princess Across the Sea butts him in the head with the hilt of her weapon and he crumples, tumbling down a few steps. She leaps down, more like a wolf than a dragon and slices at his arms, chest, and legs, leaving only flesh wounds. It ends with her pointing the tip of her blade into his neck, not quite piercing flesh, her curved blade pressed into his gut. A putrid smell fills the room, and the girl raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"I guess I did frighten you, after all." She tells him, and I wrinkle my nose when I see the damp spot going from his crotch down his leg as the Unsullied force him to stand.

The Queen descends the stairs and her sister holds her hand, helping her step over the small puddle on the floor. She walks to us, and begins to speak in that strange language. While the other listen intently, I have no fucking idea what's happening. Only that this is far longer than I've been unmoving in nearly a fortnight, and that has me almost stumbling.

The Queen's eyes meet mine, and her mouth tightens. "You are not from here, are you?" She asks me. "Where did you come from?"

I look down. "Westeros, Your Grace." I mutter.

"Westeros? How did this happen to you?"

"A man claimed to rescue me from King's Landing, but he had just sold me."

"To the Captain? Or one of his men?" Queen Daenerys asks, looking at my captors with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"The Captain's brother. Hizdahr zo Loraq." I speak the name, a shiver running down my spine.

"And what is your name?" She asks, her twin staring intently at me, as though she's seen me before.

I suck in a breath. "I am Robb Stark, of Winterfell."

The Queen's face instantly darkens. "You are a Stark? A member of the family that overthrew ours?" She asks, and despite my understanding that this could be my eyes still meet hers.

"Your father burned my uncle and grandfather alive. Your brother took and raped my aunt Lyanna." I bite out, surprised by my own anger. Her eyes flash.

"How dare you -"

"Daenerys!" Her twin shouts, pushing past her.

"What is wrong with you?" The Queen asks her twin, clearly frustrated.

The girl on shakes her head, though, and walks up to me. "I think I know him."

"How could you possibly -" But her sister ignores her. Instead she stands in front me, her face softer than before. Her violet eyes are calm, but I still take a scared step back. She is a dragon. I am a Stark. This is a trick.

The girl looks into my face and lifts her hand, and I suck in a breath when she presses the small palm against my thin, dirtied cheek. Her other hand reaches up to push back my shoulder-length locks, and her eyes stare into mine. She gasps and steps back, turning to her sister.

"It's him."

* * *

_(Jae's POV)..._

I look away from the stranger Aegor had shown me, internally scolding myself for not seeing it sooner. But how could I have? His hair is longer, his beard long and untamed, his blue eyes not as bright, his body skinny and unhealthy, his skin dirty.

The anger grows in me as I look from him to his captors, and before Dany can stop me I advance on the nearest one, kicking him in the stomach. The next has the skin by their ribs sliced, the third suffers a bloody nose from the sharp punch I delivered. Sword still in my hand I go to the Captain and quick as a snake in the grass my free hand wraps around his much thicker throat, squeezing hard. The Unsullied only hold him in place, no one stops me._ "You. You did this to him." _I growl. _"I should kill you where you stand." _His eyes widen at my Valyrian. _"I should let my dragon burn you. You and your brother. If you thought you were in danger before…"_ I tsk him, watching the man turn purple._ "Things will be much worse for you."_ Then I drop my hand, trying to ignore how it shakes while the Captain sucks in a breath. "But I won't kill you. You'll live, knowing a girl much smaller than you made you piss your pants. Your men will know you are weak. Your fellow masters will know you are weak. Your brother will know you are weak." I tell him in the common tongue, back straight.

I turn to my sister, whose frown is still in place. Then she looks at the Unsullied, nodding her head. They take away the former slavers. She looks to Missandei, next who carefully approaches the other slaves.

My best friend descends the stairs, briefly stopping next to me to squeeze my hand, and I squeeze hers back. "Come with me, please." She gently requests of them, and I notice a few touching Robb's shoulders as they leave, and there's a pang in my heart when I look upon him once more. What happened to the man Aegor showed me? Where is his wife? How was he sold?

"Leave us." My sister commands of Jorah, Barristan, and Daario. They follow without question, but I see a thoughtful expression grace Barristan's face when he looks upon Robb Stark before he follows the other two men out.

"I'll have someone clean that up." Daario leans down to whisper in my ear, and I snort.

"Just hand a rag to Captain Loraq. He's the one who made the mess."

Daario chortles and pats my shoulder, sending a wink to my sister who rolls her eyes. Amusement fades from her face as she looks up at the thin Northerner. "Now, what shall we do with you?"

* * *

_(Robb's POV)..._

Before I can respond, the Targaryen with violet eyes steps in between her twin and me. "Dany, no, please. He's suffered enough!" She pleads. A stranger, pleading for my life?

I cannot see the girl's expression, but I can see Daenerys Targaryen's. Her face is less skewered, but her blue-green eyes are harsh. "His father helped usurp us!"

"Yes. And our father burned his family. Our brother stole his aunt and did unspeakable things. But a child should not pay for the sins of the parent!" Daenerys's face relaxes, and the Princess continues. "He is not his father, and we are not ours. Please, let it go."

"You vouch for him?" She asks, though it comes out as more of a formality.

The girl nods. "You know I do."

"Very well, Jaenarys. But he is your responsibility."

I bite back my scathing comment reminding the Queen I am no pet, fearing that would truly be my end.

Jaenarys Targaryen turns to me, a soft smile on her face. But I do not trust soft smiles. She holds up her hand once more but I back away. I watch in confusion as a hurt expression appears on her face, before her eyes fill with resolve. "Come with me. Please?" She gently asks. Her voice truly is melodic.

Staring into her violet eyes, I nod. She gives me a wider smile and gestures for me to follow her out of the throne room.

Please don't let this be another trick.

* * *

_(Jae's POV)..._

I never actually expected to meet the stranger Aegor showed me. Nor did I ever suspect he would come to me in such a horrific manor. I carefully glance over his hunched, thin form. He growls like a wounded animal when he walks too harshly, his breathing is hard as we climb up to the chambers just down the hall from mine. His limbs shake, both out of physical weakness and the thin clothes he wears.

"I can have someone draw a bath for you?" I gently ask, and he backs away, fear all over his face. "What's wrong?"

"No… no bath. Please." He begs. I sigh and look over his dirty form.

"At least let me get you a clean cloth." He pauses then nods. "Would you like me to cut your hair, or trim your beard."

"No." He growls, though I can hear the fear in his voice. "Please, no." He almost whimpers, so I nod, making a soothing sound like I do when Davvi gets irritated by the other three dragons.

"Okay. It's alright." He looks at me, brows furrowed and blue eyes pained and confused. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I promise."

"Why?" He bluntly asks, cowering into himself when my violet eyes meet his.

He fears me. The man I was told would mean the world to me is afraid of me. And suddenly I'm angry. Not at him, never at him, especially not all he's been through. But I wish I had killed his captors, killed anyone who ever hurt him and made him like this. That he was so broken that he could clearly not trust kindness, makes a fire burn in my stomach, threatening to erupt.

So I take a deep breath, and carefully reach out my hand to press the tips of my fingers to his wrist. They're raw and bruised, just like the rest of him. "Because I hate what was done to you."

"You don't know what was done to me." He counters, but his voice is soft.

I look back into his eyes and nod, moving my hand away from him. "I don't know everything, it's true. Whether or not you tell me, or anyone else… that choice is yours. But even a blind person could see how badly you've been hurt. That you've been through all seven hells." He looks down, appearing so small despite how much taller he is than me. He's not as tall as Daario or Jorah, but compared to me he's a giant. He should feel like a giant.

"You are being kind." He whispers. "I do not trust it." He admits, the cowers, as though he expects a harsh reaction.

I only shake my head, even though he can't see me. "You don't like being dishonest, do you?" He raises his chin a little to look at me. "You could have lied about your name. Spared yourself from my sister's wrath."

"But not yours?" He asks, confused. Voice timid.

I shake my head. "Sons are not their fathers. Daughters are not their fathers. Siblings are not there siblings." An image of Viserys standing over me, glee on his face as he raises a hand, flashes quickly behind my eyes. "I am glad you were honest, though. My sister will appreciate it, eventually. She doesn't like liars, either. Though I suppose most good people don't. Besides, now I can call you by your proper name, and not 'the Stranger.'"

"The Stranger?" He asks.

I shake my head, then nod it forward so we keep walking. "That's what you are. And that's what I am." I look at him as we walk. "Sorry, I'm being a bit cryptic, right?"

"More than a bit." He comments, voice blank.

"We'll talk about it later, I suppose. If you'd like." I nervously look down. "It's your choice."

"My choice?" He questions.

I don't look at him, though. I just keep looking at the chambers he'll be staying in, nearly there. "I think you'll discover, in time, that I value the freedom of others more than my own needs and wants. A dangerous flaw, really."

He bites the inside of his cheek. "You are strange." He softly comments.

I shake my head and open the door, turning as I do so. "You're definitely right about that." I gesture for him to enter, but he stays where he is, shaking a bit. "Right. I'll go in first." I look at the weapons on my hips, then nod. More to myself than to him. "My arms won't go near these. I swear." I cross them over my chest and walk into the room only slightly smaller than mine. There's a balcony, and I find myself regretting giving him this room.

What if he is more broken than I can see, and he just decides to end it all?

I turn to look at him, only to gasp when I see his back is turned as he surveys the room.

Scars I hadn't seen before as I'd been in front or beside him until now mar his back. Sharp, angry lashes only slightly red angrily glare at me. I had seen a few scars on his chest and one on his side, but they're relatively healed and are barely noticeable. My hand reaches out to touch them, but I pull my limb back. _It wouldn't be a welcomed touch_, I think.

But these are fresh. New. And I've been around enough of the freed slaves to recognize the marks of a whip.

I glower, my body shaking with rage. I should have killed all those fuckers.

"Princess?" A soft voice asks, and I realize Robb has turned, his features terrified. I shake myself out of it, calming.

"I can ask someone to come take care of you. Um… clean your wounds." I offer. He nods. "There is a freed man who works as a healer now, for my sister. I'll request him."

"Thank you." He mutters, and I nod.

I take a few steps so I'm a foot away from him, then look into his blue eyes. "If you need anything, anything at all. My room is just down the hall. I shall have a few Unsullied guard you, as well." He looks down, and I watch as his hand hesitantly reaches to mine before he quickly pulls back, shocked by his own actions. "I know it means nothing to you, not now, but I promise to keep you safe. And I hope you'll grow to trust me. When you're ready." He nods and I step back. "You're tired. I should go. I'll send for the healer."

I walk towards the open door, but a soft voice holds me back. "Thank you."

I smile and turn, trying to appear as gentle as possible. "There is no need to thank me. I'm only doing what any decent being would."

"I've found most strangers are not decent to me, as of recent." He softly admits, his eyes far away.

Sighing sadly, I lean against the doorframe. "This one will be." I vow. "But I will be leaving the door open, for now." He tilts his head. "You should not be alone. My two men will protect you. They are Unsullied, former slaves themselves. They protect the freed." I tell him, then exit the room.

Nodding at the Unsullied guards at my door, the walk over to me, obeying a silent request. _"Watch him, please. He is hurt. Broken. He should not be alone. A healer will be up soon. I want the door to remain open, your eyes not leaving them. He is to be kept safe from further harm. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes, General."_ Black Lice bows his head, Tick bowing as well.

_"We will watch this man. He shall be safe." _Tick promised, and I smile at the guards.

"Thank you."

I walk away, my training garments still clinging to me as a reminder I need a bath and fresh clothes. But those thoughts are pushed aside so I may focus on the task at hand. Robb Stark may not trust me, and he may still be a stranger to me, but he is my stranger. My beautiful, terrified, angry, wounded stranger. And his needs, right now, are more important than any of mine. And perhaps that's ridiculous, me choosing to care about someone I don't know, who's family has a complicated history with my own. Perhaps I have latched onto him too quickly, taken Aegor's words as truth far too quickly. But for once I don't care. I found someone I truly believe is worth fighting for, is worth the patience and all the healing he'll require. That's okay. I'm far more patient than I get credit for.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write!**

**Sorry this took forever to upload! So distracted today, lol! But this chapter covers episode 4x05, and then another scene between Jae and Robb, with little Vimor. It's more of a canon episode plus some filler, but shows both POVs during the scene. Just a little something to see how he's doing in Meereen the past few days. But again, just a slower, shorter chapter as we've had the big one needed. Enjoy, more is to come tomorrow!**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Oh, and the cute new addition. Bold in a dialogue is Dothraki, italics in a dialogue is Valyrian.**

* * *

_(Jae's POV)..._

I've found that in the past few days, I've been daydreaming about riding Davvi through the clouds, feeling as free as I did on Meraxes back. No longer terrified, I instead feel a thrill tingle down my back at the thought of mounting my dragon.

But that is not all my mind wanders to. Three days have past since Robb Stark was brought to us, not that we knew who he was before he decided to be honest. He's been a free man again since the Captain and his men were taken into custody to await trial. Despite having politely dismissed my advice when it came to the 163 masters, Dany has become just a touch more merciful by having the worst of the male and female slavers imprisoned to be judged for their crimes. Personally, I hope the Captain is stripped of his ship and made to work the sewers.

I'm busy worrying about Robb's recently treated wounds but insistence on not taking a bath when Jorah and the other's enter Dany's chambers at the very top of the pyramid, where the council holds court. I straighten in my seat, my weapons in front of me but my body adorned by a red dress of similar making to the pale blue one my sister wears. There's a look of happiness on Jorah's face as he sits on my other side, Missandei and Grey Worm standing to my left. "I bring news from a trading ship from Westeros. One which hails from Pentos. King Joffrey Baratheon is dead, nearly a fortnight ago."

"How did the slavers from Loraq's ship not know?" I ask, anger in my voice. "They seemed to have no issue enslaving a man from Westeros meant to be a guest."

He looks at me. "Captain Loraq knew nothing of the plot to kill King Joffrey, only that they were to aid Robb Stark in his escape from King's Landing."

I nod, still frowning.

My sister looks to Jorah, wonder on her face. "How did he died?"

"Murdered at his own wedding." The Andal informs her.

"And we've taken the Meereenese navy, Your Graces." Ser Barristan tells us. "We would have done so earlier, but the were matters of arresting the masters and aiding in feeding and clothing the freed that took precedence."

Daario clears his throat, walking from his spot leaning against the wall to join us at the round table, sitting between the two Sers. "The Second Sons took the Meereenese navy."

"Who told you to take the navy?" My sister asks, irritation in her voice. I make a face and look down, amused. Someone's in trouble, again.

"No one."

"So why did you do it?"

"I heard you liked ships." I snort, my eyes looking up at my twin and seeing her narrow her eyes at me before turning around, most likely covering the fact that Daario has impressed her once more. Perhaps he's not as in trouble as Dany made us believe.

"How many ships?" She asks when she turns around.

"93, Your Grace." Barristan answers.

I lean over to look at him. "How many men can they carry?"

"9,300, not counting sailors."

I exchange a looks with my sister, then we look at Jorah. He only stares at my sister, as he always does. Love truly can consume you. "Would that be enough to take King's Landing?" Dany asks her most trusted advisor.

"The Lannister's have more."

"They've been fighting Joffrey's wars for years. They're tired, dispersed, and now their king is dead." Ser Barristan argues.

_But perhaps they aren't_, I think to myself. Fighters can be bought, for the right price, no matter how tired they are. Sellswords are proof of that. And the Lannisters have money, resources.

"8,000 Unsullied, 2,000 Second Sons, sailing into Blackwater Bay and storming the gates without warning." Ser Barristan finishes."

Dany looks at Jorah once more, and he considers it. "It's hard to say. It could be enough. But we're not fighting to make you Queen of King's Landing. 10,000 men can't conquer Westeros."

"The old houses will flock to our Queen when she crosses the Narrow Sea!" Ser Barristan argues.

I blink, remembering those same words spoken by Illyrio to Viserys, back when we were staying with him in Pentos. That the people of Westeros sing for our return. So I shake my head. "With all due respect, Ser Barristan, but that is an arrogant view." I look up at my sister, who watches me intently. "Dany, I know you want to get home. But you have to realize, these people don't know us. They've been so consumed with life under the rule of King Robert and then King Joffrey for nearly twenty years that it's more apparent they'll back the winning side." She nods, imploring me to continue. This is the longest I've spoken in a council meeting, and I've never argued so vehemently against one of our advisors, but I'm so tired of false proclamations of us receiving loyalty from Houses we don't know, and Houses that don't know us. "I know how badly you wish to return to Westeros, Dany, I truly do. But we cannot rush into our arrival just because we have 93 ships. Patience is most important."

Dany smiles kindly, a proud look in her eyes, as well as a twinkle of amusement. "My sister, the fighter, preaching patience? I guess I should listen to you, hāedar."

I wrinkle my nose fondly. "Well, someone ought to."

Jorah stands, and our focus lands on him. His face is graver, now, and directed at me first before pointed at my sister. "There's other news. From Yunkai." I sit up straighter, fear filling my stomach. "Without the Unsullied to enforce your rule, the Wise Masters have retaken control of the city." I look up at Missandei, my eyes filling with tears and she takes my hand.

We should have stayed. I should have made Dany let me stay.

It gets worse, though. As Jorah goes on. Even Daario, normally so cool, shifts in his seat and looks down, our eyes briefly meeting in understanding. "They've reenslaved the freedmen who stayed behind and sworn to take revenge. Not against you, though." He looks at me, Missandei's hand gripping mine tighter. "Young Princess, you are the one who helped lead the attack. Our Queen told them they could free themselves, but the Wise Masters see you as the true threat. I believe they described you as, 'The girl who wields weapons and thinks herself better than men." I look at Dany, deep down expecting her to feel as though I've stolen some attention from her. She is the Queen, afterall.

But if she is jealous in anyway, she hides it well. Because her eyes are filled with fear when she looks upon me, as though she can lose her whole world. "Daenerys -" I start to try and soothe her, but she shakes her head.

"My sister is better than those men, and they know it. If they think they can hurt a single hair on her head, they will discover who the real threat is when I allow my children to burn them where they stand." Despite the passionate protection from Dany - truly more of a maternal proclamation than a sisterly one - I bite my lip in fear. The fire in my sister's eyes burns brighter than it did in Astapor. I do not want her to lose what keeps her sane for the sake of my life. I'm not worth the harm that would do her.

"I'm afraid I'm not finished." Jorah softly tells Dany, who nods, no less angered. "In Astapor, the council you instilled to rule over the city has been overthrown by a butcher named Cleon," Dany turns to face the balcony, "who's declared himself 'His Imperial Majesty'."

"Dick." I mutter, sullen. Any joy King Joffrey's death may have brought the room has vanished.

My sister nods, despite not looking at us. "Please leave me." I sigh and stand, Missandei and Grey Worm waiting for me, the former just as upset as I am. "Not you, Jae. Jorah." We stop moving and my best friends pass me, Missandei kissing my temple as she goes and Grey Worm and I clasping each other's forearms.

When the room is cleared, Dany turns around. First she crosses over to me, standing two inches taller than me now, and I'm left to wonder how that happened without me noticing. She embraces me as a mother would her daughter, and if it weren't for the love pouring out of her heart I'd feel as though I was suffocating. Or perhaps I do now, but I just don't care. "Those monsters will not touch you, hāedar. I promise." I nod. She release me and looks up at Jorah. "It appears my liberation of Slaver's Bay isn't going quite as planned." I clear my throat. "Yes, ours." She rectifies, kissing my cheek.

Jorah shakes his head, his voice soft before he looks only upon my sister. "You could sail for Westeros, and leave it all behind. A boy sits on the Iron Throne. A boy many believe to be a bastard with no right to it. They've never been more vulnerable."

But it is not Dany who speaks next, it is me. "I will not leave these people behind. Not to suffer more cruelly as a consequence of our actions." I turn to Dany, pleading. "Sister, please. We promised these men and women and children that they would be free, that hey would have the right to choose what life they lead. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn't regret leaving the freed to be enslaved once more when you sit on the Iron Throne?"

She cups my cheek with one hand and nods. "My sister is right, Jorah. You counseled me against rashness once in Qarth. I didn't listen. That all worked out well." We all chuckle despite the tense situation. Then Dany shakes her head. "How can I rule seven kingdoms and allow my sister to risk her life in doing so, if I can't control Slaver's Bay?" She wonders. "Why should anyone trust me." She looks down at me once more, taking my hand. "Trust us? Because I won't be the only royalty in King's Landing. You'd have to be my heir, there's no one else. There won't be anyone else from me." I nod at her words, remembering the witch's curse.

Dany returns her gaze to Jorah. "Why should anyone follow me?"

"You're a Targaryen. Both of you." He gently reminds us. "You're the Mother of Dragon's, Jaenarys is the Young Dragon."

My twin drops my hand and turns around once more. "I need to be more than that." She needs to be Queen. The Queen, I suppose. Perhaps she always has, even with Viserys screaming to the Gods that he was the dragon, the rightful King of Westeros.

She looks at Jorah once more. "It is as my sister so passionately said. I will not let those we have freed slide back into chains. We will not sail for Westeros. Not yet."

"What then?" Jorah asks.

"I will do as queens do, what I have been doing these past days since we took Meereen. I will rule." He nods. "You are dismissed, Jorah. Thank you again for your counsel." He nods and bows at us before leaving, and my sister looks at me.

"Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask, looking away from her intense stare.

"What Jorah told us, it's affected you greatly. I don't expect anything less. You are the Liberator, the Sword of Justice. These people, I've seen how you are with them, and them with you. I am Queen, but you are their protector. And I'm not blind. I know you wished we stayed in Yunkai longer. Perhaps we should have." I don't say a word. "This is why I need you by my side, Nary. You remind me what is important. Always. Those men won't hurt you." She promises again.

I smile. "I know you won't let them, but I can take care of myself."

She nods. "Yes. But, this isn't all that's on your mind. What else has happened? Other than your stranger appearing and being none other than the son of the man who helped lead the Rebellion."

I frown at the hate in her eyes. "He's not his father. He is a man betrayed, hurt, broken. An enslaved we freed."

"Who he really is remains to be seen. Tread lightly, hāedar. Men easily lie."

"Yet this one didn't." I argue. "He told us who he really is, despite what it could mean to him. That must count for something."

"Only time will tell." She narrows her eyes. "Something else troubles you. Haunts you. Don't think I don't notice the shadows under your eyes, the tiredness in your movement."

I sigh, and look away. "I had another vision, or perhaps a dream. I was riding Meraxes, and I met Rhaenys. She was not entirely forthcoming with information." I mutter.

My sister sighs. "It was just a dream, hāedar. Those visions from before were a result of Pyat Pree's magic, nothing more."

"Perhaps." I mutter, and she squeezes my hands. "Go, check on your stranger." She gently commands, though I'm kind enough not to question the fear in her eyes. I don't think she believes what she said, either.

* * *

Vimor reaches up to hold my hand as we walk to Robb's chambers, with me holding a tray of food and water in my free limb. I left my sword and arakh in my room after the meeting. I've had them one me the past couple of days when I visited briefly, and though he doesn't cower as much from me, he's eyes are still scared. And the last thing that I want is that man scared at me.

Just as we reach Black Lice and Tick, I nervously glance down at my red dress. Maybe I should have gone for a different color? Borrowed a white one from my sister or Missandei?

As if sensing my hesitancy, Vimor tugs on my hand for attention. I look down at him and he smiles.

"You… pretty." He smiles up at me, brokeningly reciting some words from the common tongue lessons Missandei and I have been teaching him. I'm still so proud of how fast a study he is, so I lean down to kiss his forehead.

"Thank you, my love." He nods and pulls me forward with the spirit of any child. That's another thing I admire. For however timid he is around other people, for how much he can shy away from the touch of men who aren't the Unsullied and women who were not former slaves, he is always eager around me, and continues growing bolder. But children are remarkably adaptable. I was, myself. Still am, I think.

Black Lice and Tick nod at us and step aside in perfect sync, allowing Vimor to open the door. We walk in together and see Robb's frail form seated on a chair inside, looking out towards the balcony. "Lord Stark?" I quietly ask, but he doesn't move. Vimor lets go of my hand, and before I can stop him he rushes to the recently freed Northman.

He gently touches his hand, and I worriedly leap forwards, scared of how Robb will react. Two days ago, a different healer came by to redress his wounds. A man will a thin face but muscular build. Something in him made Robb panic, though, and it took three Unsullied to calm him. Two more kept me away, protecting their princess.

But when Vimor touches him, an audible breath is released from the thin man with shoulder-length hair. I watch as he looks down at Vimor and starts to cry, shoulders collapsing forward and moving with his sobs.

Vimor climbs onto his lap, like a child would their father, and he doesn't say a word. Only waits.

I set the tray down at the table nearest the chair and cautiously walk forwards, standing in front of Robb with my back to him, so he sees me. So he sees I'm finally unarmed, and that I don't have any cruel plans in store for him.

"I can go, if you wish. The guards can bring Vimor to me when you grow tired of company." I gently tell him over my shoulder, my eyes on the floor.

Vimor may not know what I've said, but he knows tone of voice. He's so clever, for a child of 8. Then again, one in his place would have to be to survive on his own. "Jae… go?"

"Yes." I whisper, turning to look only at him.

"No." He growls. Growls. That has Robb looking at him, a strange look on his wet, bearded face.

* * *

_(Robb's POV)..._

Though darker skinned - like the woman who introduced Daenerys Targaryen - the little boy reminds me so much of the wild boy I left in Winterfell, who must be long dead. Us Stark's are so easily killed, it seems.

Little Vimor, that's his name. He reminds me of Rickon. Dear, wild Rickon, who would run through the halls of Winterfell with Shaggydog yipping at his heels, would terrify my mother by shouting and hiding from Maester Luwin. He was always a wolf, even before we brought him his own direwolf. Always the pup.

I'm still crying. It makes me bitter, how weak I've become. If father and mother could see me now.

Vimor pats my hand again, then my face. My eyes widen when I see a small scar just below his wrist, a permanent shackle mark. Suddenly my eyes fill with rager, and the tears that fall are ones of anger. My arms wrap around the small body - though he's clearly stronger than me, even now, having survived so much hardship for so long.

He says something in that language I don't understand, but it doesn't matter. This is familiar, hugging a child. It's like hugging one of my brothers. My dead brothers.

At least Jon, is still alive.

Jon, I need to tell Jon.

But then my stomach sinks. I can't. I can't tell anyone I'm alive, I know that. I can't warn anyone about Lord Baelish, either. Someone not meant to know always finds out, and then my family will truly be dead.

So instead I find comfort in this foreign but familiar child, this Vimor. My eyes glance up and I see Jaenarys Targaryen worriedly watching us, though I can't tell if she's more worried about me, or the child in my lap. I also see the weapons are gone from her hips, and though her violet eyes are so strong, without them she looks… well, not weak. I don't think she's capable of being weak. But she looks less like the woman who cut down a man triple her size, who made that monster wet himself. More like, well, as I always imagined a Targaryen princess would. Fierce, violet eyes full of passion. But she is far more tan than I thought, and without the sweat matting her silver hair down, turning it grey at the hairline, it glows like the moon over Winterfell.

But I know a woman's beauty can be dangerous. Misleading. Queen Cersei was beautiful, and she brought my family nothing but horror. My wife was beautiful, and though I loved her, so much would be different had I not allowed myself to fall for her. If I'd honored my vow.

Beautiful women bring trouble, I've found. That's my point. No matter how kind they seem, fake or real. They're trouble all the same.

* * *

_(Jae's POV)..._

My eyes meet Robb's and I give him as soft a smile I can manage, one reserved for Davvi, Dany, and now Vimor. One meant to placate, to keep calm. One only out of kindness, but the softest kind. He doesn't smile, his eyes don't shit from their harsh blue - so different from the brightness I'd seen in the forest, back when Aegor was my guide.

But his shoulders fall a bit, less with his cries, and more relaxed. I've seen enough wounded animals and humans to keep my distance, let them come to me.

So I stay where I am, by the balcony. "When you'd like to eat, there's food and water on the table." He nods, watching me. I cross over to eat and take a few bites, then fill an extra goblet with water and take a gulp. He watches me, confused. "Not poisoned. I promised. I wouldn't hurt you. I hope, in time… I hope you trust me on that. But only when you're ready. Just tell Black Lice and Tick when you want Vimor to… to join me."

"Black Lice? Tick?" He asks, face darkening. I nod.

"Yes. The masters of Astapor gave them names, to remind them they are less than vermin. My sister and I told them they could pick new names, but… well, those were the names they had. When we freed them. I just need you to know, that. That I value others having the ability to choose for themselves, freely. It's important." I nervously look away, never being this unsure before. A stranger makes me nervous. One who should be far more scared of me, and probably is. "Um… I just wanted you. Wanted you to know. I'm going to go now. Bye." I walk away and close my eyes, silently groaning. I stop and turn when I hear Robb say my name.

"Princess Jaenarys."

"Yes?" I ask, voice quiet, barely above a whisper.

"Thank you." I nod and leave the room, keeping the door opened.

_Gods, I'm such an idiot._


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write!**

**Sorry this took forever to upload! It's actually a two-parter, the second half will be posted at some point tomorrow! This one covers another vision, the canon scene in 4x06 with Dany and her subjects, a very unwelcome meeting, and an invitation that gets RSVPd. This chapter is only from Jae's POV, and tomorrow's will be just Robb's.**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Oh, and the cute new addition. Bold in a dialogue is Dothraki, italics in a dialogue is Valyrian.**

* * *

_The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the sky. The pointy objects my hands cling to are familiar and rough, and when I glance down I see silver scales and white spikes. _

_Meraxes._

_"Hang on tightly, little one. Try not to fall off again." Rhaenys whispers in my ear and I nod, pitching my weight forward and clenching my thighs around Meraxes thick back, finding a spike on each side to stick a foot under, much like a stirrup on a saddle. And with that Meraxes is spinning in the air, wings folding a bit to keep the wind from blowing me off._

_I can't help it, I scream. But not one of fear. Of joy. I've never felt freer. _

_We pass through birds as we soar through the air, tumbling over clouds and diving down to the sea below. Meraxes tilts, or perhaps I tilt her, and her left wing just touches the water, slicing through and splashing us. I laugh, throwing my arms out._

_"Wooohoooooo!" I cry out, hearing my blood pumping through my veins. Someone wraps their arms around my waist and I turn to see Rhaenys has returned, proud._

_"As brilliantly as you are doing, little one, you should hold again. Meraxes is about to show you what you were born to do."_

_I nod and hold onto the spikes at the base of the dragon's long neck once more, Rhaenys and I leaning forward. Meraxes shoots up into the sky once more, body bobbing up and down as she moves, her wings flapping elegantly. She starts to twirl, over, and over, and over again._

_"She is not Davvi, but she knows you. A dragon always does." Rhaenys tells me, and perhaps it's because I'm dreaming, or in a vision, but her voice is always clear._

_I nod. "Land." I whisper, and Meraxes evens out, gliding down to the same spot of grass I fell to the last time._

_I watch Rhaenys climb down her dragon's wing first, then copy her movements. She pets Meraxes snout and the dragon flies off, leaving us._

_"You've gotten much better."_

_"I've only dreamed this twice." I point out._

_"And how do you know it's a dream?"_

_"Dany -"_

_Rhaenys shakes her head. "Your sister knows not what she says."_

_I growl. "Didn't you say this could be a dream, last we spoke?"_

_She laughs. "I was trying to be cryptic, little one. But I can assure you, this is no dream."_

_"Why me, then?" Rhaenys tilts her head. "Why not visit Dany? She's the Queen. The rightful heir to the throne."_

_"Whether or not you are a Queen matters very little when it comes to visions. What matters is who you are. And you're the one we've been waiting for."_

_"But why?" I ask. "Tell me, please."_

_"It is not time for you to know. Not yet. But you will. I shall see you soon, little one."_

* * *

My eyes snap open and I find myself curled and facing the balcony. Davvi is snoozing, a small puddle around her wet form. While Dany's dragons fly to the hills to find their game, Davvi seems to prefer fish. Kind of like the wild dragon Grey Ghost, of Dragonstone. Viserys, for all his many faults and abuse, taught us everything he knew about dragons past. Grey Ghost was one of three wild dragons - the other two named Sheepstealer and Cannibal. Grey Ghost was only ever seen flying low over the Narrow Sea, and was never claimed.

Davvi shakes her head and sits up, stretching like a cat despite her size. I smile and get up, bare feet padding on the cool floor and getting wet when I step outside to pat her head. She nuzzles up into it. "The strangest thing keeps happening, Davvi. And no one well tell me what it means." I comment, then kiss her forehead. "I must go. My sister has to meet with supplicants today. And so my life as Princess of Meereen truly begins. Could you watch Robb Stark, today?" I'm sure if she had eyebrows, she'd be raising one. "I will not be judged by a dragon." I laugh, then stand and walk away, letting her return to her nap in the sun.

After changing into a black silk dress with slits and tying a leather top over it, my red House sigil carefully sewn onto it's left breast thanks to Missandei, who insisted.

I tie my belt then attach my weapons, leaving my room and nodding at my new guards, Spider and Mouse. Vimor waits with them, bouncing with energy.

_"Why are you so excited?"_ I ask.

"Want see masters beg." He answers simply in his broken common tongue. I smile and wrap my arm around his shoulders.

"It might be boring. Not fun." I clarify.

He shakes his head. "With you. See you… call? Call them names. Fight them."

"I may not fight them, but for your pleasure I will humiliate them." I slowly announce, and he seems to understand every word. Or at least enough to get the message.

We walk to the throne room in silence as we're both still waking up. Unsurprisingly we're the last to arrive, and clearly the most exhausted.

My sister nods at me, ready to start the day, and Missandei calls the first one in. One by one, the Meereenese - masters and freed alike - come in and air their grievances. My mind is focused on successfully riding Meraxes and my talk with Rhaenys. That is, until I feel something shift and realize Vimor is leaning against me, about to doze off. I smile and stroke a hand through his short, thick tufts and he grins up at me, blinking awake.

I look at the entrance of the throne room just in time to see a shepherd walk in with a clothed bundle in his arms. Missandei begins her introductions once more, before I can even offer to relieve her.

_"You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and the Mother of Dragons."_

_"Don't be afraid, my friend."_ My sister says, a sweetness in her voice.

_"The Queen says you may approach and speak."_ Missandei clarifies, and the man does, but very cautiously. As though not to anger. He speaks in low Valyrian, which I had learned on the streets of the Free Cities of Essos. It's how I've been speaking to the freedmen and women of Yunkai. I've yet to speak to those freed in Meereen, though, having spent these past days training, sitting on my sister's council, and taking care of Vimor and Robb. Perhaps we'll go down to the streets today, though, after all of this.

"He says he is a goatherd." Missandei translates for my sister. "He prayed for your victory against the slave masters. Yours, and your sisters."

I bow in respect to the man. _"Your prayers are appreciated."_

He gives me a small smile, but when my sister gazes upon him looks down once more. "I thank him for his prayers." After Missandei translates for him he gives a timid bow then bends over and opens his bundle, revealing the charred remains of a few goats. _"It was your dragons, my Queen. The black and red, the green, the pale."_ He briefly glances at me. _"Not the black and bronze."_ He looks back down at the floor while Missandei translates for my sister, mentioning it was only her dragons. He then speaks again. _"They came this morning for my flock."_ Missandei translates once more. _"I do not mean offense, Your Grace, but now I have nothing."_

As Missandei finishes informing my sister, I look to my twin, not sure of what she'll do. After a moment, she speaks. "Tell this man I am sorry for his hardship. I can't bring back his goats, but I will see that he is paid their value three times over."

Before Missandei can translate I walk to the man, and he glances at me in curiosity, his eyes then following my little shadow. _"My sister apologizes for the actions of her dragons. She recognizes this hardship, and while she cannot return life to your flock, she will see you paid three times their worth. We will not have you starve, dear man."_ I speak slowly in low Valyrian, and he bows profusely towards me, then my sister, and I smile proudly at her decision. But at the same time, I'm nervous. While Davvi is… Davvi, her dragons have always been bolder about what they are. What if goats no longer satisfy them?

But I allow myself to be happy for what she's done for this man, and she smiles at me in thanks. The man wrap's up his bundle and leaves.

"Send the next one in." Dany calls, and two men enter. The taller is dressed like one of the Great Masters, joined by a servant who introduces him in high Valyrian.

_"The noble Hizdahr zo Loraq begs an audience with the Queen."_

My eyes widen, and I turn to look at my sister.

_"A man claimed to rescue me from King's Landing, but he had just sold me."_

_"To the Captain? Or one of his men?" Queen Daenerys asks, looking to the imprisoned men._

_"The Captain's brother. Hizdahr zo Loraq." The Stranger announced, fear tainting his soft voice._

"You." I growl.

"Jaenarys!" My sister calls in alarm, shooting up from the throne.

I turn to her, whipping out my arakh and pointing it at the former master, who's hands are thrown up. _"This is the man who bought Robb Stark!" I growl. I turn to him. "What kind of monster puts a recently freed man in chains? A man who does not know him, and was told her would be a guest of?"_ I question, descending the steps. _"You are not allowed here. Not unless you want me to cut your throat."_

"Jaenarys!" I turn to her, my body shaking with anger. She shakes her head slightly, then focuses on the servant.

_"As you can tell, my sister is quite angry. I'm afraid Robb Stark means a great deal to her. So if the 'noble' Hizdahr zo Loraq values his life, he can speak to me himself."_

I narrow my eyes but step back to let him pass, Vimor running to take my hand and half-hide behind my body as we watch the man approach the landing of the throne stairs and bow respectfully to Dany.

"Queen Daenerys. Tales of your beauty were not exaggerated." He looks at me, then, over his shoulder. "Nor yours, Princess."

Before I can speak, Daario clears his throat. "Princess Jaenarys, you'll find, isn't one to hold a grudge. She's willing to work with former masters to help them understand what is right and wrong. She has them tried for crimes and found guilty or innocent. But I would not be surprised if she rightfully cut you down for what you allowed to be done to your would-be guest, so perhaps sweet talking a woman with two sharp bladed weapons isn't the smartest decision."

Despite my anger I smile at the words, a protectiveness oozing from the sellsword that I'd spent the earlier years of my life wishing Viserys would feel for me.

Hizdahr pales and looks back up at my sister, who is unimpressed by him. "Mine is one of the oldest and proudest families in Meereen. My father, one of Meereen's most respected and beloved citizens, oversaw the restoration and maintenance of its greatest landmarks. This pyramid included."

"For that, he has my gratitude. I should be honored to meet him."

"You have, Your Grace. You crucified him. I pray you'll never live to see a member of your family treated so cruelly." He looks to me, then, as though attempting to threaten me, but i hold my ground.

I have no reason to fear him. Only hate him.

I narrow my eyes. "As Daario said, perhaps you should leave a woman with two sharp weapons alone. Did you know I made your brother piss himself, right where you're standing, simply by giving him a few wounds? Imagine what worse damage I can do to the man who gave the order, not the one who followed it."

Hizdahr nervously nods then turns back to my sister, who is busy glaring at him. "Your father crucified innocent children."

"My father spoke out against crucifying those children." The man admits, and though vile I believe him honest. My sister looks to me, as if we both remember my words from that day.

_"What if we were to hold a trial? Find the guiltiest of all the masters, the ones who went beyond chaining another life. We find the ones responsible for the children, and we see justice is met."_

That is the counsel I had given, and I was ignored because my sister was impatient. She understands that, though, and nods sadly at me. Hizdahr continues. "He decried it as a criminal act, but it was overruled. Is it justice to answer one crime with another?"

"I am sorry you no longer have a father, but my treatment of the masters was no crime. You'd be wise to remember that. He was still a slaver, as were you. I would not misspeak again, for the ones who threaten or hurt my sister don't live long."

"What's done is done. You are the Queen, and I am a servant of Meereen. A servant who does not wish to see its traditions eradicated."

"And what traditions do you speak of?" I ask. "Slavery? Because I can promise you, that won't be returning. No matter how prettily you beg." The anger scares me, but I don't feel as though I'm losing myself. I don't like it, all the same. But looking upon this man, all I can see are the scars on Robb's back, the pain in his eyes, the way he cowers when anyone but Vimor or an Unsullied attempt to touch him.

"No, no. The tradition of funeral rite. Proper burial in the Temple of the Graces. My father and 162 noble Meereenese are still nailed to those posts, carrion for vultures, rotting in the sun." He kneels down. "Your Grace, I ask that you order these men taken down so that they might receive proper burials."

My sister leans forward in her throne, face shrewd with anger. "My sister and I buried every single child we passed on the way to Meereen. They were rotting in the sun as well. Tell me, would you have begged for their right to a proper burial?" She asks.

"Your Grace, I cannot defend the actions of the masters. I can only speak to you as a son who loved his father. Let me take his body down. Let me have him brought to the temple and buried with dignity so that he might find peace in the next world."

I glare at him, then at my sister, my eyes widening when she nods her head and refuses to look my way. "Bury your father, Hizdahr zo Loraq."

"Thank you, my Queen." He and his servant leave in respect, but I couldn't care less. I glower at my sister, who still doesn't look at me.

"How could you?"

"A son is not his father, a father is not his son." She tries to tell me, but I shake my head.

"No. You don't believe that."

"Your care for that stranger has blinded you from what you know to be right." She tells me, and though my mind tells me what Dany permitted was wise, my heart is screaming in agony.

"He isn't a stranger. But that man allowed his brother, allowed himself to trick a guest into being a slave! Robb has scars on his back, he can't take a bath without breaking down and hiding in the corners of his room, he can't accept the touch of another without panic breaking out on his face - with a few exceptions, those being others who were enslaved. It may not have been for long, but trauma is trauma." I declare passionately, tearing sister stands and holds out her hands in peace.

"Jaenarys, calm yourself. Do not think this an easy decision for me to make. But I must. Go, collect yourself. I can manage this without you, though you've been a great help. Go with Vimor for a walk, if you'd like." I start to deflate and nod, the little boy taking my hand.

Walking out the back entrance so I don't risk running into Hizdahr zo Loraq, it takes every part of my body to remain calm when I do so, to not stomp away like a scolded child and frighten Vimor.

* * *

As soon as we enter my room I shut the door and furiously untie my leather top, removing my belt and weapons as well. Vimor waits for me, staring at the floor, and I let out a deep breath when I see him. "I'm sorry. I am not mad at you. I promise."

He shakes his head. "No. Want man dead. For you. And Robb Stark." He tells me, and I fall to my knees in front of him. I raise my hands hesitantly and he instantly clutches at them, bringing them to hold his face. With a sigh, I kiss his forehead and stand.

_"Come. I haven't walked the streets of Meereen in days. Be my guide, and we shall practice the common tongue." _I tell him in low Valyrian, the boy nodding enthusiastically and tugging me out of the room. I close the door behind me and bow my head at my rotated Unsullied guards.

But as we walk past Robb's chambers, Vimor stops walking, forcing me to halt. Releasing my hand, the little boy runs to the door, unafraid of the guards who relieved the Black Lice and Tick from their duty for the day. He knocks wildly, and a moment later the door is opened, Robb Stark standing in the doorway with panic on his face. Although he's yet to shave and has only recently started accepting short baths - the healer insisted, and though stubborn, the man in charge of the Stark man's recovery proved to be quite convincing. So he looks far less dirty than he was before. His skin is still too pale, his body still thin and he carries himself as though he's smaller than he is. But his back has healed, and I've noticed everyday he physically grows stronger.

"What is the matter?" Robb asks, looking down worriedly, only focusing on Vimor. The little boy looks back at me with a clever smile, then back up at Robb.

"Jae and I… go for walk in streets. Join?" He asks, and a soft smile grows on my face.

I glance at Robb, and see his features twitching as he thinks over a response. "He may be tired, Vimor." I try. "Maybe another time. _We should not ask too much of him. He still needs some time."_ I add in Vimor's native language. He looks at me with a small frown. _"That man who came before, who had bought our friend, he was only an additional trauma. We do not know what happened to Robb in Westeros. Only how he came here."_ I gently explain.

Vimor sighs but nods to look back at a still thinking Robb. "You no have to come."

"No." My eyes flicker up, staring into his blue orbs, brighter than I've seen since I've known him. Robb nods. "I would like to you join you two. If the Princess agrees."

I bite my lip, and do my best to control my facial expressions, though I'm sure my violet eyes are filled with joy, much like Vimor's brown. "It's Jae. My… my friends call me Jae."

"Alright then. Jae. Just give me a few moments, and I'll be ready." He gently closes the door and Vimor giggles at me.

So I look down at the little boy and narrow my eyes, though my lips twitch into a smile. _"Why are you laughing?"_

_"Because you like him."_

I roll my eyes and look away, arms crossed while the child laughs. The sound is like bells, ringing in the near-empty hall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello all! Welcome back to my _Fireborn_ series! As promised, here is my fourth installment; _Blazing Liberation_. This will cover season 4, and include some more Robb POV because that's fun to write!**

**Okay, the second half of the last chapter has now been updated! This is all from Robb's POV, and we see Jaenarys opening up a bit more about her past, as well as him watching her interact with the people of Meereen. Featuring her little shadow, and her scaley/spikey/fire-breathing gal pal!**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Oh, and the cute new addition. Bold in a dialogue is Dothraki, italics in a dialogue is Valyrian. (however, this chapter has none, because Robb only speaks two languages: common tongue and love).**

* * *

I had been dreaming of the Red Wedding when I heard the violent, rapid knocking. It woke me up, appearing at first to be an army behind the door of Walder Frey's Great Hall. But when I opened my eyes, I found myself in my chambers, ones I hadn't left in over a week.

The knocking only got more energetic, and terrified something had happened I rushed to the door in an elegant silk robe and pull it open, coming face-to-face with the Targaryen Princess and the little boy, Vimor. He was the one knocking, as it turned out, though I should never have suspected Princess Jaenarys of doing so. She just looked a collection of lost and frustrated, but towards the boy.

"He may be tired, Vimor. Maybe another time." She had said, then spoke softly to the boy in Valyrian. Though, of course, I know not what words passed between them. Only that, strangely, both the woman and the child seemed upset when Vimor told me I didn't have to come.

Staring into his sad eyes was like staring into Bran's, the last time I saw him. But it was the concern for me in Princess Jaenarys's violet embers that had me agreeing.

So I told them I would come, and shut the door to get dressed. The Queen, despite our tense family history, had her people bring up clothes for me. Dressed in comfortable leather boots, a white tunic with loose long sleeves, light brown breeches, and a deep blue jerkin I met my company outside my door, and we walked to the city together.

That was fifteen minutes ago, and other than Vimor dragging us around the streets and leading us to the market area, the Princess and I have not exchanged a word. I can tell she wants to, but is hesitant. Am I truly that disgusting now? Am I that broken that I'm completely unappealing?

But then I notice the way she's carrying herself. She doesn't keep too much distance between us, only about a foot. She doesn't try to lose me in a crowd. And there is a crowd, because the Princess of Meereen is walking around with her people rather than hiding away in her pyramid.

I feel like something is missing, though, when I look at her. And sure enough, when I look down I see what she left behind. "You didn't bring your weapons?" I ask her, and she swivels her head to me so quickly I fear her neck snapping. She blinks, looks down, and blushes.

"Oh, um. Is that a problem? Do you not feel safe? Because I'm sure I can ask an Unsullied for a spear, or to guard us. I've not trained much with a spear, but Grey Worm's shown me a few tricks."

I don't know who this Grey Worm is, but the speed at which she's talking, the slight blush to her cheeks… she seems so different than the woman I first met. The woman who's been visiting me everyday, bringing me food and drink but never touching me, not since that first day. Like she's waiting for me to make the first move. Like she actually cares about what I want.

Realizing I hadn't responded, I shake my head. "No, no, it's fine. I'm sure you'd be able to protect us without a weapon on each hip."

She nods and bites her lip, then looks away. I jump when a small group of men and women in loose clothing gather around us, but they don't reach for me. Instead their hands go out to my companion, who instantly relaxes at the sight of them. These are the freed, I can tell from the marks on their necks that won't go away for another handful of moons, from the scars littered along their body and the sadness in their eyes. They repeat a word, one that sounds like "missio." It's like a title, one of royalty. It must be, right? That's why she's so calm and settled. For all she said to me about valuing the freedom of others, she's clearly most comfortable being spoken up to. Like a Princess. I'll bet trained with best swordsmen in Essos since she was a child. And now she wishes to go to Westeros, to take back her claim as Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Because no royalty I've met has ever spoken to their people the way she does and expects nothing in return.

Smiling at them, she shakes her head, and leans out her hands. Speaking to them in their language, they nod and laugh, talking with her. One woman allows her to touch her stomach, and the joy that fills those violet eyes as unlike anything I've ever seen. She kisses the pregnant woman's forehead, like a blessing, then nods to me. Princess Jaenarys's eyes are still light as she lifts Vimor and says my name, introducing me to the Meereenese freed.

Looking at me, she smiles. "Robb, these are Myrosh, Zelene, Epsha, Aisha, and Volis. They used to work for the House of Pahl. Myrosh and I met prior to the fall of the masters." She bows to the old man, whose eyes widen. "He was hesitant to fight, as he had no weapons training. But he wanted to. We gave them the weapons, and then I told him, 'You do not need to be a soldier, in order to be a fighter my friend. But the choice is yours.'"

Anger bubbles in me. Did she and her sister truly allow innocent, traumatized people to fight so they could rule Meereen? Are they truly that cruel? That mad?

She doesn't look at me, though, too focused on kneeling in the dirty path, her dress covered in dirt. Vimor now standing next to her, she opens her arms so the little girl standing with her father can give the Princess a hug.

Jaenarys's eyes close as she draws the girl closer, a small smile on her face. She releases her and stands, taking the older man's hand and bowing her head once more. He does the same and she leaves, holding Vimor's hand and waving to the rest of her people as well.

"So, you gave that man a weapon so he could fight a battle for you?" I ask bluntly, disgust clear on my face. She turns to me, startled, and frowns.

"No, of course not."

"You armed them. You wanted them to do your dirty work." I suspect, eyes narrowed. Her own do the same, but she breathes in and out.

"No. I can see why you'd think that, but… I wasn't willing to go into battle and see thousands more lost. I wanted them free, but… it had to be on their terms. What they wanted. Liberation is only liberation if you feel in control of it."

I look at her, watching as she looks away and sees a small girl playing with some sticks on a step, like a little game. Vimor takes my hand as she briefly leaves us, and I watch in awe as Jaenarys laughs freely, head thrown back as the little girl makes her roar with laughter. She runs a hand through the girl's long dark hair and carefully braids it like hers, tying it with the ribbon holding her own silver locks together. They fall and she pulls the curls apart, allowing them to reach all the way to her hips. She whispers to the little girl who laughs and nods. Then the Princess waves over a group of nearby children, all of whom shout "missio." The more the shout it, the more I realize I must have been wrong. Not even Joffrey reacted this proudly to his title as "Prince" and later "King."

"What is 'missio'?" I ask Vimor, who tilts his head. I wait patiently, knowing he only speaks and understands a little of my language. Finally he speaks, smiling kindly. "Not 'missio'. 'Mīsio'." He corrects. "'Protector'. She protect innocent. Orphan," he points to himself. "Saw her. Followed. Took her hand. She took me with her, when found out. What. No, who am I. I am." He corrects, but I nod in understanding. "She good. Save people in Yunkai. Fought. Killed masters. Scars on arms from it."

"You're telling me she's good?" I ask. He smiles and lifts our entwined hand, pointing the limbs at the Princess of Meereen. "Not good. Great."

* * *

After bidding the girl farewell Jaenarys rejoined us, looking lighter than she had before, in the palace. It reminds me a bit of Arya. She too could be found with the common folk, mingling with them and entertaining them with her wildness. It brings a warmth to my heart when I see this Targaryen doing the same, only I can't help but wonder at first if she's playing them for fools, her people who have suffered enough.

It takes me until she pulls out a pouch from between her breasts and gives a former slave gold coins for the apples he tries to hand her, to realize that I've perhaps misjudged her. I've seen niceness, sure. But never that. Never a noble handing money to a person of lesser status. Not since my father. The man takes the coins and begins to tear up, and she gently places a hand on his shoulder as a friend would.

"She says, 'you do not give me. I give you.'" Vimor roughly translates for me, then eagerly accepts the apple from Jaenarys. She hands one to me as well, and thankful to the Old Gods and the New that I hadn't lost or weakened my teeth in my journey since Edmure's wedding I take a bite, savoring the sweet fruit. I watch as Jaenarys joins us, her own red plump lips forming an "o" as she takes bite.

"You paid the man." It's not a question, and she looks confused.

"Yes. I've always paid. Had to when I was little, to get food for us. Viserys wasn't going to do shit. Never raised a finger to help, and Dany… well, she's strong, but I'd always been the fighter. So it was up to me to find ways to provide for us."

I nod at her words, then tilt my head in curiosity. "Fighter?"

She smiles and nods, looking proud. "Yeah. Used to run off in the middle of the night when we were on the run in the Free Cities. Fought in illegal fighting pits so we could afford food and shelter."

"Fighting pits are illegal." She smiles patiently.

"In Westeros, yes. But as of a fortnight ago, slavery was legal here in Meereen. Things have always been different in Essos. But the ones I fought in were illegal, because they allowed children."

I look at her, sure my eyes are wide. "How… how young were you?" She looks down at where Vimor walks next to us, happily munching on his apples and waving to a few passerbys.

"I was seven, my first fight." The world slows for me, and I look into her now dark and stormy eyes, the violet glowing violently. "I lost, but… I lasted longer than the other ones."

"How old was your opponent?"

"Older." Is all she says, then looks off into the distance as if remembering. "Much older. Too old to be fighting a seven-year-old, but evidently he needed the money. I came back to where we were staying with a bloodied nose, swollen eye, and bruised limbs. My sister assumed it was my brother, my brother assumed I had pissed off the wrong person. 'Wouldn't be the first time, kinslayer.' He would say."

"Kinslayer?"

"My mother died the moment I entered the world. I was her last breath. It was a waste of a breath, Viserys always reminded me." She's still looking away, and I watch her hands shake. "But that was the last time I lost a fight in the pits. It's how I learned to swing a sword, to throw a punch. In the pits, most children died. Not me. I never killed, not until I was older and the man deserved it." She says, assuring herself more than me. But I'm not judging her. How can I? Not after what she's admitted. I've seen liars first hand, paid the price for trusting too quickly. But when I look into her eyes, all I see is honesty. I'm not quite sure this woman is capable of telling a lie.

"I'm sure he did."

"Those men who took you deserved what I did, too. The humiliation." She blushes and looks down, taking another bite. I look at her, truly look at her, and realize something.

"You protected me from your sister's wrath. You nearly killed Captain Loraq with one hand. All for me. Why?"

She has a faraway look in her eyes as she gazes into my blue orbs. "It's hard to explain. Complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it."

She sighs. "Look, can't we just leave it at my not liking men who enslave others?" She pleads, voice a little harsh with force. I'm not as terrified as I once would be, but I still nod. She watches as Vimor runs off to look at a man selling exotic fruits and nuts. "Sorry. It's just… you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

I nod at her words, allowing my companion some secrets. I probably wouldn't, it's true. "Have you seen him yet? The man who bought me from Lord Baelish?" Her tan skin pales a bit, and I make a noise. "Oh."

"Earlier today. He came too… to ask to bury his father. My sister had the man nailed to the post…"

"A little excessive." I point out awkwardly.

She nods. "Yes. I told her we should hold a trial, but she insisted there wasn't enough time. She's made enemies because of it, but… I can't help but agree with her. On our march to Meereen, we found a child slave nailed up at each mile-post." She looks down at her hands again, then rubs her free one on a slightly scarred arm. They're thin lines, though, and not noticeable unless you're truly looking. "There was 163 miles to Meereen." My eyes well with tears, thinking of my own unborn child brutally murdered by the Freys. "I buried them. Every single one. I dug the graves, I lowered them in, I buried them. My sister helped, but… it was my hands that got dirty. My hands are always dirty." She mutters, then looks up at me, her eyes strong and her complexion back to it's normal tan. "Hizdahr zo Loraq came and said his father spoke up against it. The nailing of those children. Eventually my sister conceded, even after I made it clear what he did. Then she let him leave. I-I was angry, so Dany dismissed me for the day." She explains. I nod slowly.

This woman almost killed five men, for me. She spoke up against her sister killing me, for me. She made sure I got a healer, she's kept me company without overstepping her bounds, she's allowed the child she took in to befriend a broken man who wakes from a nightmare every night, and now I learn she lost her composure for me.

So what does it all mean?

I know I won't get my answers, not yet. Maybe not ever, if her sister changes her mind and Jaenarys is unable to protect me again. But for now, I take solace in the knowledge that for the first time since Theon, I could have a best friend.

We walk through the markets, weaving in and out of stalls. Jaenarys buys us some strange candies, calm-smelling candles, and rose oil for herself. It isn't until we reach the docks that I realize our true destination. Something rises in the water, spikes and then scales, and I watch in awe as the black-and-bronze dragon shoots up from the bay, head thrown back as it launches a few fish into the air and catches them, flying up. Instead of screaming, the Meereenese wave and laugh, the dragon gliding until it stops just in front of where Jaenarys stands. Vimor holds my hand tightly as Jaenarys reaches out her hand, and the dragon nuzzles into it, chittering happily. The Princess of Meereen speaks to it in Valyrian, then gestures to a timid Vimor. He nods and releases me, and dread fills my stomach.

But it was all for nothing, I suppose, because the dragon lowers its head to sniff at Vimor's head. Liking the smell of his curls, the dragon nuzzles him, wetting him. "Davvi?" The boy asks, and the dragon nods. "You are Davvi?"

Jaenarys smiles, one brighter than the damn sun, and looks back at me. Her grin becomes stronger, but holds so much understanding. I give her a small smile as well, one that more has my lips twitching upwards, but that's enough for her to hear what I'm saying without words needing to be passed vocally.

_"I'm not ready, but I will be."_


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm baaaaaack!**

**Phew, it's been awhile! I needed a break, though, so I didn't burn out and give up to writer's block. But here is the long awaited next chapter. It takes place during 4x07 with a few extra moments, and will be entirely in Jae's POV. I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for your patience!**

**As always I only own Davvi, Jae, and Robb's new character development and plot. Oh, and the cute new addition. Bold in a dialogue is Dothraki, italics in a dialogue is Valyrian.**

* * *

Since our walk two days ago, I've noticed a change in Robb Stark. More specifically, how he's begun to approach me. Still very much like a wounded animal, he seems less… terrified of me. More trusting. He's still not fond of being touched unless it's Vimor, but he's less tense when it's just him and me. His blue eyes are lighter, shine brighter. He's started eating more. He even managed to take a bath last night. His guards stayed in the room with him in case anything happened, but Black Lice was quick to tell me he took his time.

"You and the Stark boy have gotten closer, young Princess." Jorah tells me as I wipe the sweat off my brow with my forearm, arms sore but not in pain. My sword finally feels like it truly belongs in my hand, like I've come into what my ancestors wanted for me.

"And?" I ask, twirling my sword in my right hand and getting into position.

He shrugs, getting into his own fighting stance. "It was just an observation. I knew his father, you know. The honorable Eddard Stark." There's no contempt in his tone, though. "Lord of Winterfell. Warden of the North. He helped Robert Baratheon in the rebellion. I fought for him during the Greyjoy Rebellion, earning my knighthood." He lunges towards me but I step out of the way and block him. "He wanted me executed for my crime. Instead, he settled on exile. That was his mercy."

"You were selling people into slavery, Jorah." I tell him, blocking another attack before kicking him in the knee. He drops a bit and I swing my sword down on top of him, but he blocks me this time.

"I know. And I do not blame Lord Snow for what should have been my punishment."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, spinning out of the way from his attack.

"Because you should know the type of man Robb Stark was raised by."

I raise an eyebrow and bend back to avoid his swing before straightening up, going on the offensive and twisting my sword around his, knocking it out of his hand so it skids across the floor. With my sword at his throat, I say, "Robb Stark is a good man. Broken, but good. I already know what kind of man raised him."

"Aye. But I just wanted you to see you are right to trust him." He gives me a proud look as I lower my weapon. "You could do worse than Robb Stark."

"His father wanted to have you killed. His father helped overthrow my own. Shouldn't you be siding with Daenerys? I know she still doesn't trust him." I don't say it with malice. It's a relaxed reminder of the facts, without the judgment.

Jorah sighs. "Your sister loves you, little dragon. Very much. She doesn't want you to be in danger. I care for you as well, very much. Even the smallest cut you may receive makes my heart clench in fear. But I've known the Starks my whole life. You could find no more honorable family than theres. Sometimes, though, honor can be blinding. An honorable person may not understand that there is more to just 'good' and 'bad', 'right' and 'wrong'. You must help Robb Stark learn this."

"Ser Jorah is right." Barristan announces, walking in from where he's surely been listening in. "I knew Eddard Stark when he was Robert Baratheon's Hand. His need to do the right thing was his downfall."

"Why do you both care about Robb Stark's fate?" I ask, more than curious.

Barristan smiles and places a hand on my shoulder. "We have seen the way you look at him. Your sister, too. When you return to Westeros with the firstborn Stark, you will have united the North and the South."

"Then you two should be advising Daenerys to marry him. Join the houses." I mutter, ignoring how my stomach twists at the thought.

Jorah lets out a snort, something he rarely does. "Your sister would never do that, young Princess. She is not keen on breaking your heart."

I narrow my eyes. "I have no idea what you mean."

"We are not blind, Jaenarys." The Mormont gently tells me. "We saw how you reacted when you met him. We see the truth about your feelings."

I shake my head and step away. "There are no feelings. Not in the way you're suggesting. And certainly not from him. If you two will excuse me, I'd like to have a bath." Before they can say anything I'm walking away, sword in my newly callused hands, their words playing in my mind over and over.

The bath is in a room connected to my main room. Private and with yet another balcony, it's much like the bath houses all around Essos, with clean water being run up through interwoven and brilliant designed aqueducts.

I undress and step into the still steaming bath, lathering sweet smelling oil all over my body and hair. Grabbing a small jug I fill it with water and pour it over my head, letting the liquid wash away the oil. I sit there, soaking, staring out the balcony and smiling when I see Davvi flying over the city, spinning in the air.

When the water cools down I get out, wrapping myself in a silk robe and pinning up my wet curls. I walk away from the bath and into my bedroom, padding barefoot out to the balcony and staring up at the darkening sky, watching the stars twinkle and the moonlight begin to paint the city. Davvi flutters over me, circling before landing in her usual spot, curled up as small as she can manage. I smile and sit next to her, leaning against her thick scales and rubbing under her jaw. _"Tired? I am, too."_ I mutter, closing my eyes as my body moves up and down with her breathing. _"I think I'll just lay here, for a bit."_ Davvi snuffles and I feel her lower her head, wrapping her body around me as I drift off.

* * *

Davvi's growls wake me. I blink, the world around me darker than before. How long had I been sleeping?

"Shh, shh. What is wrong?" I ask, but Davvi keeps snarling for a few more moments before she abruptly stops and moves away from mer, her snarls becoming whimpers. I blink, then hear a light knocking coming from outside my room. I quickly stand and tighten my robe, leaving my balcony.

"Jaenarys, you have visitor." I hear Ant say from outside my chambers, speaking in the common tongue.

I rush over to my door and pull it open, coming face-to-face with a heavily breathing Robb and two wary guards. "Thank you, Ant. Tick." I bow my head to them, and they do the same. "Come in, Robb." My voice is softer, now, and he nods, passing me as I close the door, the Unsullied guards having returned to their post in sync.

Noticing Robb looking anywhere but at me, I blush down at my silk robe, realizing how tight it is. The cold air has made my nipples point out in the think material, the wet spots still drying. I cross my arms over my body, having not been nervous in front of another man since… well, since my first time with one. I've always been confident in what I do and don't show. But with Robb, it's different.

And that terrifies me.

"I can change, if you -"

"No! No." His cheeks turn pink as he manages to look down into my eyes, blue meeting violet. "This is your room. I am intruding. I'm sorry, I'm sure you were sleeping, I -"

"What do you need?" I ask, voice still soft as my head tilts. "What is wrong?"

He lets out a laugh that lacks any semblance of humor. "Where should I begin?"

I gestured to the table Vimor and I usually share our meals, and he waits for me to sit before joining me. Smiling to myself at his chivalrous behavior I lean one elbow on the table and rest my chin on top of a closed fist. "Wherever you'd like. I'm your friend, Robb. I hope you know that."

He gives me a small smile. "I do. Now. I should have, when you attacked Captain Loraq on my behalf."

I bite my lip. "I do not blame you for not trusting me. You know that, right?"

"I can still regret my judgment of you though." I nod.

"Again, I do not blame you. I promise. Now, what is troubling you?" I look into his eyes. "Was it… was it a bad dream?"

He lets out a shaky laugh. "My life the past few months has been a bad dream."

"Has the news of King Joffrey's death not helped?" He looks at me, confused, and my mouth makes an o. "Did no one tell you?"

"He is dead?"

"Poisoned at his wedding."

"He got what he deserved, then." I nod, obviously not knowing the late king, but the pain and glee in Robb's eyes tells me he was at the very least a monster.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I thought perhaps someone else would have."

"You're the only person I'm around. And Vimor. Missandei - Missandei, right?" I nod. "She comes by occasionally, but only ever on behalf of your sister."

"And me." I correct him, gently, and he tilts his head. I blush a bit. "I send her to check on you as well. I thought it'd be easier for you to be around other freed slaves. But I didn't want you to think I was spying on you."

"You care." He mutters. "You truly care. I saw you with the people. How they clamored around you. At first, I thought it was for show. But listening to Vimor's story about how he came to you, it made me realize how wrong I was. You're not like any royalty I've ever met."

I blink. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No. It's a good thing. And I… sometimes, when I'm around you, I forget that you're the Targaryen Princess."

"I never liked being a princess." I sigh, looking out towards the balcony. "I never wanted to return to Westeros. I wanted to explore Essos. I wanted to fight and go on adventures like Jaenara of House Belaerys. She explored Sothoryos on the back of her dragon, Terrax. But even before I got Davvi, I just wanted to get on a horse and ride, and never look back."

"Why? What was so bad about being a princess?" He asks me, and I smile internally. Robb wanting to learn more about me… it's a welcome change from him not talking to me. Even during our walk around the streets of Meereen he wasn't as curious about my past as he is now.

"My brother." I simply say, then look at Robb and the confusion in his eyes. "I have no doubt that he is my father's son. I know I like to say that children are not their parents, but he was always cruel. Always unhinged."

"What happened to him?"

"He died. Was killed." Is all I say. I blink back a few unshed tears. "And in the moment it happened, I was glad. Truly. But now all I feel is this regret, that things weren't different. I still hate him, and I know the world and my sister are safer now that he's gone, and that he was a _monster_, but… I've always wondered if he was different, before the Rebellion. But I'll never know." I look at Robb. "I'm sorry. My troubles are not yours to bear."

"Mine are not, either, but that hasn't stopped you from taking care of me, even though I've pushed you away." He points out. "I'm ready, now. To accept that someone still cares."

"Vimor loves you, you know." I tell him, and he blinks. "Truly. He considers you a friend. Someone to look up to. So it's not only me who cares."

Robb looks down. "I'm not sure what I've done to be worthy of his admiration. He is much stronger than me."

I shake my head, despite the Stark man not looking at me. "I believe you are stronger than you think. I do not know your story, but I know pain and heartbreak when I see it."

He gives me a look, as though he's truly seeing me. "Yes. I suppose you do."

"Do you want to tell me? About your nightmare?"

"It's always the same thing." He shifts in the chair, then looks up at me through his lashes. "I'm sitting at the table with my wife. We're talking about our child. And then… then that damned song starts, and my men fall all around me. My wife is killed with arrows, her blood and my unborn child's blood on my hands." He shoots up and turns from me, looking out at the balcony. "My mother's throat is slit, and right when I feel like I'm about to be stabbed by a man I considered my friend, I wake up. Alone." My eyes well with tears.

His wife was murdered. His baby was murdered. His mother was murdered. And he was betrayed. My heart breaks into millions of pieces. What I had imagined happened to him… it doesn't compare to reality. "That's what happened, you know. Because I broke a vow, and with the Lannisters' help by slight was repaid. Two innocent women were killed because I couldn't honor an agreement. Because I couldn't keep one damn promise." He picks up a goblet and throws it across the room, and I wince when it hits the wall. "Damn it all. Damn the Seven Kingdoms. Fuck Westeros! Fuck everything that happened since fucking King Robert marched to my home and helped rip my family apart!" He collapses onto the ground on his knees, hands in his eyes as his shoulders shake.

For once, I don't hesitate. I don't wait for permission.

I get up and fall down next to him, wrapping the broken man in my small arms, being his strength. He doesn't tense up, doesn't push me away. So I bring his head to my chest and let his forehead rest against my heart.

The door opens and the guards step in, but I shake my head and wave them away. They nod, wary, but give us privacy once more.

"Robb, you listen to me. What happened to you, what I know happened to you," I correct myself, "is absolutely heartbreaking. What you've been through… most men would not have survived. But you are not most men. I knew you weren't when we first met, even without having known you. I am so sorry for what you lost. I only hope that in time, you start to see that you only have more to gain."

He nods his head, still crying, and I rest mine on top of his. I can see Davvi approaching, curious, and Robb sits up when he hears the clicking of talons. He looks to my dragon, who lowers her head to the ground. Then he looks at me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"Shut up." I interrupt, then smile and wipe the tears from his cheeks. "You are my friend. I am here for you."

He nods. "I should go."

"Stay." I whisper. He blinks at me, unsure. "I don't think you'll be able to sleep. Not after… I just know you won't be able to. And I'm much too invested in your wellbeing to rest. So stay, and we'll talk."

Robb stares at me, lost, searching my eyes. Finally he nods, and I stand, offering my hand to help him up. "Thank you, Princess."

I smile up at him, wide and with all the warmth in my heart. "My friends call me Jae."

He smiles, small but finally trusting. "Alright. Thank you, _Jae_."

* * *

"You are kidding!" I laugh, shaking my head. The sun pours light into my room, having risen what seems like eons ago.

Robb only nods, laughing as well. It's still sad and heavy, but there's life in him now. "No. I speak with great honesty. Arya showed-up Bran. She would've been a fine warrior, if it were allowed."

"Why isn't it?" I ask, leaning forward. "Plenty of Targaryen women were warriors, you know. Aegon wouldn't have conquered Westeros without Rhaenys and Visenya."

"Not all families are like you Targaryens."

"Incestuous?" I ask, and he pales a bit. "What, it's true. My mother was my father's sister. If I weren't a kinslayer, I'm sure Viserys would have attempted to marry me." I wrinkle my nose. "I never wanted to marry family, though. I don't think I ever wanted to marry at all."

"Kinslayer?" Robb asks. "How?"

I sigh. "My mother died giving birth to me. I took her last breath for mine. Viserys had always hated me for it."

"You're no kinslayer, Jae. That was not your fault."

"I had no say in it, that's true. But I still killed her." I shrug, accepting it. Robb looks like he wants to say more, but someone knocks on the door.

"Who is it?" I call.

"Missandei. Your sister sends word that she wishes to speak to you."

"Come in." I tell her.

Missandei enters, but pauses when she sees Robb is with me, wearing rumpled sleep clothes. She also notes my robe, and I pinken at her tiny smirk. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

"No!" I say, a little too quickly. "We were just talking."

"Aye." Robb nods, then stands. I stand with him, and watch as he bows to me. "I will see you later, Jae. If that's alright?"

I nod. "Yes. Have a good day, Robb Stark." He smiles his little half-smile then bows to Missandei before leaving my chambers, closing the door behind him.

Missandei clears her throat and I look up at her, biting my lip. "Are you going to tell Dany, Deia?" I whisper.

She shakes her head, but grins at my blush. "I've never seen you enamored with a man before. I must say, it's strange to see you acting so…"

"Like a princess?" I ask, finishing her sentence. I like how honest Missandei can be with me. How she doesn't feel like she has to please me or be respectful, as she does with Daenerys. After Davvi's death at the hands of Qotho, I never expected to have another person to consider my best friend. Dany is the other half of my soul, but Missandei? She shares a piece of my heart, just like Grey Worm and Vimor.

"Yes. Do you trust him, though. Truly?"

I nod, and stare at the door as though Robb is still standing there. "I do. I've seen him before, you know. In my dreams."

"What do you mean?"

I look at her. "Visions, Deia. I have visions, or maybe they're just dreams. Not as often as when I was in the Red Waste and Qarth, but… my ancestors show me things. Things like Robb Stark and Blackfyre."

"What makes you think they are dreams, if you were shown this man? If you were shown your weapon?"

"Because if I accept that they are visions, I feel as though I'd be losing my mind." I admit. "I need to hold onto my sanity, Missandei. If I don't… I fear I could become like my father and Viserys."

"I have faith in you and your sanity, my friend." She whispers, taking my hand. I smile and squeeze back. You should get dressed, though."

"As I always, you're right." I tell her, making my best friend laugh.

Going behind the changing panels I pull a dress out of a drawer. It's red as always, with a plunging neckline and a long, flowing skirt. The straps cross behind my back, loosely falling off my shoulders.

I let my hair down, foregoing the usual braids and letting the curls fall down my back. Missandei is still standing in the same spot, waiting for me. "Are you going to be teaching Grey Worm the common tongue today, or will I be running the lesson?" I ask, and she blushes this time.

"If you don't mind, Jae, I like teaching him."

I smile at her innocent look and nod. "Of course. I shall teach the others, though. Allow you focus more on Grey Worm's lessons."

She looks away from me as we leave my chambers. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't." I wink at her, and she sighs.

"Your sister asked me to send some fruit and cheese to her room. Would you like some?"

I smile. "Only because you are offering. Thank you, Deia. I shall see you later." With that we are parting ways, and I walk up towards my sister's chambers at the top of the pyramid.

On my way, I run directly into Jorah, who helps straighten me. "Apologies, young Princess."

"The fault is mine. I had a late night and am not as coordinated as usual."

"And what kept you up?"

I smile fondly, remembering the past few hours with Robb. "A talk with a friend."

He nods, not quite believing me but also not commenting. When we enter Dany's chambers, though, any brightness in his steps dims when we come across a hastily exiting Daario, who is attempting to lace up his tunic before giving up, allowing his rather impressive chest and stomach to be on display.

I'm no blushing maid. I know what he was doing in there, with my sister. And as fond of him as I've grown, their actions are not worth the pain in Jorah's eyes.

"Oh, Jae. Jorah the Andal." He greets, hands behind his back. "You're here to see our Queen?" The question is rhetorical, of course. "She's in a good mood." He pats Jorah's shoulder and leaves. I stand with my Westerosi friend for only a moment before racing after the tall sellsword, leaving him and my waiting sister behind.

"Daario!" I shout, and he stops. Turning to me with a small smile, it falls when he sees the anger surely burning in my violet eyes. "I know you have been with my sister. And we both know of Jorah's love for her. I cannot tell you what to do, not really. Evidently that's reserved for my sister. But if you ever taunt him like that again, ever cause Jorah further heartbreak, Davvi won't be the one you should fear. It will be me."

He nods. "Of course, Princess Jaenarys." He bows, leaving me.

With a sigh I turn and walk back to my sister's chambers, entering right as I hear the Queen of Meereen announce,

"I trust you."

"Daario Naharis killed his captains and dumped their heads at your and your sister's feet when he grew tired of their commands." I watch Jorah venomously remind Dany as she circles her round table. "How could you ever have faith in a man like that?"

"I could never have faith in man like Daario." She stops walking and gives me a small, welcoming smile before refocusing on Jorah. "That's why I've sent him and the Second Sons to reclaim Yunkai."

"Why not send me as well?" I ask, approaching the council area. Both stare at me. "As the sister of the Queen, perhaps -"

"I do not want you far from me." Dany admits. "It is not because I don't trust you. But you're life is being threatened by the Wise Masters. I do not trust the others to keep you safe."

I nod in understanding, and Jorah speaks. "Without you there to rule, Khaleesi, I fear the masters will simply bide their time and wait for the invaders to leave and reassert control."

"That is why I've ordered Daario to execute every master in Yunkai." Her viciousness, though coming from a place of love for people, makes me wince. Thankfully it goes unnoticed. There's just something about the emptiness in her tone when she announces her order that makes me a touch afraid, despite the fact I know it's nothing less than those monsters deserve. "The masters tear babies from their mother's arms." She grows more passionate. "They mutilate little boys by the thousands, they train little girls in the art of pleasuring old men." The mention of the latter almost has me falling into the memory of Viserys threatening to do the same to me. "They treat men like beasts. As you said yourself." She reminds Jorah.

"Herding the masters into pens and slaughtering them by the thousands is also treating men like beasts."

And despite my hatred for the masters, I listen to our advisor, remembering what Ser Barristan had said when we took Meereen; "Sometimes it is better to answer injustice with mercy."

Jorah is not finished. He rests his hands on the table as my sister crosses her arms. "For slaves you freed, brutality is all they've ever known. If you want them to know something else, you'll have to show it to them."

"And repay the slavers with what? Kindness?" She argues. "A fine? A stern warning?"

"It's tempting to see your enemies as evil. All of them. But there's good and evil on both sides in every war ever fought."

"Let the priests argue over good and evil. Slavery is real. I can end it - we can end it," she nods at me, "we will end it and we will end those behind it."

Jorah walks over to her. "I sold men into slavery, Khaleesi."

She joins him half-way. "And now you are helping us show them to freedom."

"I wouldn't be here to help you if Ned Stark had done to me what you want to do to the masters of Yunkai."

Dany sighs, then looks up at Jorah. "The man who came to me the other day about burying his father."

"Hizdahr zo Loraq. The man who bought Robb Stark." I remind her, and she looks at me.

"Yes."

"He will accompany the Second Sons and serve as my Ambassador to Yunkai."

"Why him?" I ask, frowning, keeping my temper in check. This is my sister, my older twin sister who loves me. I trust her.

"Because he will tell the masters what has happened in Meereen. He will explain the choice they have before them: they can live in our new world, or they can die in their old one."

I nod, mulling over her words. "It's smart. And it keeps him away from Robb."

"I'm more interested in keeping him away from you." She tells me, a soft and amused look on her face. I'm absentmindedly reminded of how owners look at their pets the same way, before I chase that cruel thought away.

I must be tired.

Jorah nods, a smile on his face. Dany smiles back. "Go and catch Daario before he leaves. Tell him I changed my mind." She orders the Ser, who nods.

"Yes, Khaleesi." He begins to walk away, only for my sister to stop him.

"No." Jorah turns, confused. "Tell him you changed my mind."

We watch as Jorah leaves, and my sister twists to look at me. "Come, hāedar." She holds out her hand and I take it, walking up the steps to the table and sitting next to her. "How are you?"

"Fine, Dany. Just tired. It was a late night."

"Oh?" She asks, pouring me a goblet of water, and then one for herself. I sip it delicately, and nod. "Did Vimor have a nightmare?"

"Not Vimor." I murmur, and she pauses.

"Tell me you did not welcome Robb Stark into your chambers. Into your bed."

I give her an unimpressed look. "As you did for Daario?" She looks away. "You forget, I lost my maidenhood first. I know what happens between a man and a woman."

"Daario is not the same as Robb."

I nod. "You're right. Daario is confident. Robb has been broken in the worst ways. So no, I did not welcome him into my bed. But we spoke into the morning, before Missandei came to get me. He is a friend, Dany. I trust him."

"And how will that turn out, I wonder. When he gets his strength back, do you think he won't attempt to finish what his father and Robert Baratheon started. He must have been named for the late King, you know."

I glower down at my lap. "Robb isn't like that." I look up at her. "Robb is a good man who has experienced terrible loss. He is my friend, and he trusts me. Me, the daughter of the man who burned her grandfather and uncle alive. Don't forget, Aerys Targaryen was the Mad King. Viserys may have told us such with pride and respect in his voice, but Viserys was mad too."

"Men like Robb Stark should not be trusted. You don't know him."

"I do." I argue, taking her hands in mine. "I really do. And don't you think Aegor wouldn't have shown me him if it wasn't true?" She yanks her hands out of mine and stands, looking down at me before walking towards the balcony and crossing her arms.

"You are relying too heavily on the idea that what you saw in the House of the Undying was real. It was not."

"But it wasn't just there!" I shout, standing as well. "I saw Aegor when we were in the Red Waste, and in Qarth before we were tricked by Pyat Pree and Xaro. I've seen things here."

"Dreams, hāedar. They are dreams. Please, I need your head here, with me. Not in what happens when you close your eyes and rest." She orders, looking at me.

I glance away, pained by the fact she doesn't believe me. "Why can't you see that perhaps I'm right?"

"Because I do not want to lose you to wishful thinking." I hear her walk towards me, and sigh when she wraps her paler arms around my darker body. "You are my twin. The other half of my soul. The one who inspires me to be strong, the one who taught me to be good and to love. If I lose you, I lose everything."

I sigh and hug her back, our heads resting on each other's shoulders. "Just talk to him, Dany. That's all I ask. Davvi likes him, you know? Isn't that enough of a sign?"

"Perhaps." She mutters, then kisses my temple. "Fine, I will speak to him. Now, I know you've been visiting the city. Tell me, what do you think Meereen needs?" She sits back down and I join her.

"The people have already taken up control of the markets. They've started exchange currency. The freed are getting money from the masters for compensation, just as you ordered be done. But there are children who live without parents. They need a home. And everyone deserves education. The enslaved who were not taught to be interpreters like Missandei can not read or write. We should set up schools. Those who know how to read and write should and teach, and be paid. These people deserve nothing less than that."

She nods, and smiles. "Then we shall figure it out. We will make things right for the Meereenese. I promise." She cups my left cheek. "I am so proud of you, hāedar. As long as you visit with some form of protection, I will not keep you locked away in this pyramid."

I smile at her granted - although unnecessary - permission to continue going into the streets. "Thank you, Dany. And I will. Now, tell me. How was Daario?"

As we laugh and giggle about lying with men, I find myself nearly floating with happiness. This is what I've missed most these past few years. Just sitting with my sister and talking as we used to, without the stress of ruling or keeping the peace or freeing those in chains.

Just me and Daenerys, the last of the dragons.


End file.
